


Don't Freak Out

by Sarah_Sandwich



Series: Freak Out Verse [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, BAMF Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Canon has been slow roasted and picked apart for the juiciest bits, Complete, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Harley Keener, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, Identity Reveal, Kidnapped Harley Keener, Kidnapped Peter Parker, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, POV Alternating, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Harley Keener, Sassy Peter Parker, Slow Burn, The Avengers make a couple appearances but not enough to warrant tags, There's A Tag For That, Timelines Are Nothing to Me, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 136,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Sandwich/pseuds/Sarah_Sandwich
Summary: Getting kidnapped isn’t usually the best way to start your summer (especially your last summer before college) but honestly? It kinda worked out.(Or the one where Spidey saves the day in the first chapter and they spend the rest of the fic falling in love)
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Freak Out Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713709
Comments: 454
Kudos: 1410
Collections: Peter Parker Slaps Severely





	1. Alright so you’re Spider-Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year!  
> New Me!  
> New Fandom?  
> New Fic!!?!?
> 
> This is a complete fic! There are 19 chapters and I'll update every Wednesday so if you're like me and like to power through a fic all at once, the entire thing will be available for you to devour on May 6th. Otherwise, welcome aboard sailor! I hope you floss because this fic is already responsible for 3 cavities (all mine *cries*).
> 
> Don't think too hard about canon and timelines and junk. I picked out the interesting bits and plugged them in wherever I wanted. Let me know what you think! I'm working on a sequel and your feedback is the best motivation <3

.  
~ **Harley** ~  
.

  
Harley’s head is pounding and his mouth tastes like death. He tries to rub his temples only to discover his hands are restrained behind his back, fingers numb from restricted blood flow. He lifts his chin from his chest and a groan escapes his throat at the pull of stiff neck muscles. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision but the fog is slow to clear.

He’s upright in an uncomfortable chair that’s almost too short for his long legs and when he pulls on his bindings they dig into his skin and hold tight against the back of the chair. His heart begins to pound in his chest and the fog clears from his mind as adrenaline takes its place and he remembers.

He was at the benefit dinner Tony was hosting to schmooze the 1% into donating to his latest nonprofit. It was definitely Pepper’s idea and Tony’s bitter that it happened to take place while she’s stuck in Hong Kong dealing with a tricky acquisition. Tony was being his usual abrasive self, but it seemed to be going well regardless. People expect that from him now. It also helped to have him and Parker there to soften Tony’s sharp edges and keep him from walking out half-way through. Well… that had been the plan. He probably did exactly that in the end.

Harley remembers stepping outside to get some air and Parker following him, happily listening to him make jokes at the expense of all the egotistical rich folks. It was probably the longest they’d ever gone without arguing and it was interrupted by some jerks with chloroform soaked rags. He hit the ground first and was barely conscious when Parker made eye contact with him and then dropped to the ground too.

That’s the last thing he remembers.

Squinting, he forces his eyes to focus and moves his dry tongue around in his mouth. The room is unfamiliar. Dim light from a cheap electric lantern perched on the edge of a sturdy metal computer desk is the only light source in the room, casting long shadows and leaving the corners dark. Barely visible on the other side of the lantern is a door. It’s closed but has a large cracked window that shows only darkness on the other side. There aren’t any other windows. There’s no furniture. Other than the desk and the lamp, the room is empty.

Well, empty except for Parker, tied up and unconscious beside him on a rolling office chair. Harley scowls at the chair and then down at the short metal chair he’s tied to. It’s the kind you’d find in a public school and is very much lacking in wheels and ergonomic support.

Not. Fair.

He scuffs a brightly polished dress shoe against the floor and is relieved to find that at least his legs aren’t bound. If necessary, he could stand up and make a break for it, taking the chair with him. Hell, he could probably push Parker in front of him with his chest and get them both out of here. Assuming they don’t run into any stairs… or doors.

He glowers at the closed door in the corner and mourns his easily foiled plan. He shakes his head, willing the fog in his brain to clear and the panic rioting his chest to calm as he takes a closer look around.

The cracked and dirty concrete floor is unlike anything you’d ever find in a Stark building so he decides pretty quickly that they’ve definitely been taken away from the tower. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know how long he was unconscious so he doesn’t have any idea how far away they could be right now. Stupidly, he wishes he knew more about chloroform. His focus has always been more on mechanics and engineering rather than chemistry.

He thinks they’re probably squatting somewhere where they either don’t have electricity or where turning on the lights would lead to someone calling the cops. He strains his ears but doesn’t hear anything. It takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to figure out why that worries him.

Last he knew, they were in the heart of Manhattan and in New York it’s never quiet. Even in the upper floors of the tower where he’s been staying for the past several months, you can always hear faint sirens, honking from cars below, and the roar of jets flying overhead. He’s still not really used to it. He wonders if he’ll ever be used to it.

He flexes his fingers behind his back with a grimace. He can barely feel his arms, let alone his fingers. He pulls a couple more times on his bindings and is dismayed at the bite of thin plastic cutting into his wrists. He read something online about how to break zip ties but the details are escaping him.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

The thin hope that he can get them out of this if he tries hard enough starts to wither.

‘That’s the thing about us smart guys. We always cover our ass.’

Harley’s ass is feeling very uncovered as he thinks about all of the little gadgets and gizmos he could have brought with him to the benefit dinner and didn’t. All he’s got to cover his ass with at the moment is his intellect and even that feels cloudy and distant as he fights through the after-effects of the chloroform.

Frustrated, he glances over at Parker and does a double-take.

Him and Parker ain’t exactly friends, but through sharing a lab for five months, Harley’s pretty confident that he knows him better than most. Maybe not in an intimate, we share our feelings and know each others’ hopes and dreams kind of way, but he’s definitely seen Parker passed the fuck out on his workbench before and knows to expect drool and open-mouthed snoring and millions of fleeting micro-expressions because even in his deepest sleep, Parker never seems to stop. So seeing him silent and breathing evenly through his nose sends up a major red flag.

Fuck. He should have thought about pretending to still be passed out! Stupid brilliant Parker and his stupid quick thinking. Sometimes Harley would like nothing more than to punch him in his stupid perfect face.

Not that it matters. As far as he can tell, they’re the only ones in the room. Maybe even the whole building judging by the silence.

As soon as he thinks the thought he finally notices the tiny blinking red light above the door, obscured by the lantern sitting between him and it. He squints hard and sure enough, he can make out a small camera pointed in their direction. If his hands were free he’d flip it the bird. Instead, he does the next best thing.

“Hey, you sons of bitches! What the hell do you want from us!” He shouts, taking satisfaction in how Parker twitches at the sudden noise. “I know you’re watching, you creeps! Get your asses in here. Let’s get this over with so I can go home! I’ve got Netflix to binge!”

A soft woof of air to his right grabs Harley’s attention and he catches Parker’s barely concealed grin out of the corner of his eye. Little fucker really is pretending to be unconscious. And doing a poor job of it. He kicks himself again for not thinking of it. He would have been a much better actor.

The door in the corner wrenches open with a shriek that has Harley nearly jumping out of his skin while Peter doesn’t so much as twitch. Maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t be so good at acting. Whatever. He’d rather be the action guy while Parker plays at being a limp noodle anyway.

Three figures stalk into the room, two of them moving to flank the door while the other steps up beside the desk, the lantern throwing his face into sharp relief. Harley can’t see any features on the two by the door, but he can see that the one next to the lantern is a man in a suit, but the light of the lantern casts his face into shadow, making it nearly impossible to discern his expression.

Harley smirks and opens his mouth, a smart-ass remark hot on his tongue, but then the leader guy takes a gun out from a holster under his suit jacket. Harley’s smirk vanishes and he swallows the quip.

“That’s more like it,” the man with the gun says softly, standing so his face stays shadowed and the lantern light reflects off the barrel of the gun as he lazily points it between Harley and Parker. “This is why I don’t like to deal with kids. No respect for the way things work. Always think they know better. But they learn. In the end, they always learn.”

Harley glares and the man steps forward. He shrinks back in his chair against his will, but the man pays him no mind and instead approaches Parker.

“Don’t touch him!” Harley snaps, aiming a kick at the man’s shins as he reaches for Parker’s hair. His kick misses, barely out of range and the man grabs Peter’s hair and yanks sharply to lift his head from his chest.

Parker makes a good show of gasping in shock and blinking fuzzily around the room like he just woke up and then flinches away from the man with the gun. The man lets him go and casually walks back to stand next to the desk, making sure to angle his face away from the camera the entire time.

“Wha’s go’n’ on?” Parker slurs convincingly. “Who’re you? Where’re we?” He pulls on his bonds where his wrists are zip-tied to the armrests and his eyes dart around the room as his breathing quickens, but his eyes are clear and sharp like when he’s hyper-focused on a project. His eyes lock with Harley’s and go wide with feigned terror.

Damn, he’s good.

“Harley.” His voice cracks on the whispered word and his big brown Bambi eyes shine with unshed tears. “W-what’s going on?”

Fuck him actually, for successfully drawing out Harley’s protective big brother instinct even though he knows Parker is a big faker. Fuck. Him.

“Breathe, Parker. We’re gonna be fine, you hear me? I bet Tony’s on his way right now.”

Parker nods rapidly and Harley has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Real it in, Parker.

The man with the gun snorts. “Don’t count on it. Even if you have trackers on you we’re scrambling every transmission going out of this building so it bounces all up and down the east coast. You’re lost, even to Iron Man, unless everyone plays their part exactly as I instruct.”

“W-what do you want us to do?” Parker asks.

“You two? Nothing. Sit quietly and look distressed for the camera. After all, the world is watching.”

“What do you mean?” Harley asks, glancing towards the camera. “The world is watching…”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” A glint of white in the shadow hints toward a toothy smile. “That feed is playing live on every major news channel. I’d hate for Stark to miss my message.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach. Being kidnapped sucks, but knowing that his mom and sister are probably at home in Tennessee freaking out and watching him be threatened with a gun makes him sick to his stomach.

“Bastard,” he spits.

Before he can so much as flinch, the man fires the gun and a bullet whizzes over Harley’s head and buries itself in the wall behind him, raining down bits of concrete. Mouth dry and ears ringing, he sits stock still in his chair and doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t so much as breathe, while the man continues to point the gun in his direction.

“That’s better. Nice and distressed to make Stark eager to play by my rules and get his boys back without a scratch. Now stay quiet, the adults are talking.”

Harley swallows thickly. That was a bullet! A bullet aimed at him! His mom and Abbie almost watched him die. He hopes they’re not watching. He couldn’t stand it if they had to watch him get hurt or worse.

The man keeps the gun pointed at him and doesn’t face the camera as he continues.

“Stark, I hope you’re tuned in. I can’t imagine that your A.I. would miss such an obvious grab for your attention. Listen carefully. I have no interest in harming these fine boys, but sometimes life pushes us to do unpleasant… messy… things in order to get what we need. And what I need, I’m sure you’ve guessed, is money. Half a million dollars, to be exact. Grab a pen, I’m going to give you the wire account and it would be so tragic if you missed a digi-,”

“Are you kidding me?”

Harley jumps and turns to stare at Parker who’s dropped his terrified schoolboy act and is now staring at the man with the gun looking incredulous and… disappointed?

“Parker,” Harley warns under his breath. He really, really doesn’t want to get murdered on live TV.

The man with the gun aims at Parker and says, “I thought I made myself clear. I won’t tolerate-,”

“You know Mr. Stark’s a billionaire, right?” Parker interrupts. “Your big plan was to extort a billionaire for five-hundred thousand dollars? Do you even know how much a billion is?”

“Little boy,” the man says through clenched teeth. “If you don’t shut up I’ll-,”

Parker scoffs and leans back in his chair, sending it into a lazy spin. “I thought you guys were the real deal.”

“Parker, shut up! You’re gonna get us killed,” Harley hisses.

Parker’s slow revolution brings him around to face Harley, but not quite far enough for the three goons to see his face. As they make eye contact, he winks.

Oh no. No way in hell is Peter Spazzes-Out-Over-Star-Wars Parker going to be the one who stays calm and collected during a hostage situation. Peter Super-Glued-His-Hand-To-His-Desk-Last-Week Parker should be the one scared spitless while Harley is the one shaking down the bad guy and churning out the sass. Peter Wears-Hello-Kitty PJs-and-Spider-Man-Slippers Parker isn’t the cool guy!

And yet…

That man is still pointing a gun at them and he looks furious.

“500 million, then! How about that, you little brat?” The man snaps before turning to glare at the camera. “Did you catch all of that, Stark? 500 million is the new amount thanks to your little pet and his smart mouth. You’ve got 15 minutes to get it into my account or this one,” he points the gun at Peter’s chest, “gets the first bullet.”

He lists off the banking information and then stalks out of the room without a backward glance. His two goons follow in his wake and pull the door shut with a screech behind them.

Harley holds his breath, listening intently to make sure they’re really gone before he rounds on Peter.

“What the fuck was that Parker?” he hisses. “He could have killed us!”

  
.  
~ **Peter** ~  
.

  
Peter ignores Harley’s question in favor of kicking off another rotation in his chair. It’s a huge bummer that they’re live streaming this whole debacle. If it wasn’t for the stupid camera he could have Spider-Maned them out of here ages ago. It’s probably about time he let Harley in on his secret identity anyway considering how much of Spider-Man’s tech they work on together. It’s not that he doesn’t trust him, it’s just that… well, he’s kind of a jerk. Not like how Flash is a jerk with name-calling and stuff, but he’s a jerk in an Apathy is Cool kind of way.

It’s super annoying.

He kicks the ground again to keep up his slow momentum and glares at the ceiling. Of course, they had to get snatched by some idiots who don’t even know how to do basic math. $500k is nothing to someone like Mr. Stark. Maybe they underestimated how important Harley and him are to him, but Peter doesn’t think so. Not with the way the media has been all over them and eats up any kind of story that involves Tony Stark and the two young brilliant interns that he treats like sons.

No. They know exactly what ends Mr. Stark will go to in order to get them back safely. They’re just dumb. Really, really dumb.

Reflexively, Peter yanks his leg out of the way of the kick Harley aims at his shin (thanks spidey sense) and glares at him as the missed kick connects instead with the underside of this chair.

“Stop ignoring me,” Harley demands. Peter sighs and continues to stare at the ceiling. “Seriously, quit mouthing off. Tony’s gonna be pissed you cost him all that extra money and more importantly, I don’t wanna get shot, okay?”

That’s the point, Peter thinks to himself sourly. He had to do something to get that gun pointed away from Harley. Why not have it aimed at the guy with the crazy fast healing powers and high pain tolerance? Like, getting shot is no fun, for sure, but Peter’s at least got the experience and the superpowers to be able to handle it. Harley would probably just… die. As much as they argue, he can’t sit by and pretend to be scared while Harley gets shot at.

Besides, they were only asking for $500k. From a billionaire. Talk about amateur hour.

“Goddammit Parker, if you don’t answer me I swear to God I’ll… I don’t know. You never shut up! You being all quiet is freaking me out more than the gun thing. How are you-,”

Peter turns his head to Harley and says, “We’re gonna be okay, Harley. Mr. Stark will find us. Iron Man will find us. Stay calm, okay?”

“Of course, he is,” Harley snaps. “A fat load of good that’ll do us if you get us shot before then. Just stop pissing him off, alright? We gotta get out of this mess and then you can take your newfound confidence and… I dunno, say hi to Thor without stuttering or something.”

Peter yelps and plants his feet to halt his rotation and sits up straight. “I can’t believe you would expose me like that on national television,” he hisses.

Harley groans and shoots the camera a dirty look. “Don’t remind me.”

“Besides,” Peter says, “at least I can talk to Wanda without acting all creepy and flirtatious.”

“Creepy?” Harley scoffs. “That ain’t creepy, darlin’. That’s the ole southern charm,” he says, exaggerating his southern drawl and winking.

Peter crinkles his nose. “Creepy.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Me and Wanda get along great. It’s you and Bruce that are creepy. You follow him around like a lost puppy. Dr. Banner, I read your research on molecular orbital theory. Oh Dr. Banner, what do you think of the tenacity of Spider-Man’s web fluid? Dr. Banner-,”

“Shut up! I don’t sound like that! Besides, you do the same thing with Mr. Stark, only you’re too insecure to ask! You’ve gotta beat around the bush and act like you don’t care what he thinks even though you obviously do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Do so!”

“Do not!”

“Do so!”

“Do! Not!”

Peter dodges the kick Harley aims at him again, only this time his foot catches the armrest at the same moment Peter leans back into the backrest. For a moment, Peter balances on two wheels and then the whole chair topples and he goes crashing backwards onto the floor.

“Oof!” The landing knocks the air out of his lungs and leaves him staring up at the distant ceiling in shock.

“Oh shit! Are you okay?”

Harley peers down at him and Peter has to blink a few times before he realizes that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him and Harley really is standing over him, feet on the floor and chair hanging off the ground behind him where it’s attached to his bound hands.

He tries to smother his giggles but it’s all so stupid! What are they still doing here?

Harley sighs, barely audible over Peter’s laughing fit. “For fuck’s sake, Parker. At least try to pretend you’re freaked out by this. I don’t know why you’re not, but seriously. This is getting ridiculous.”

Peter stifles his laughter. It’s time to get out of here.

“Harley, you can keep a secret, right?” Peter asks, hopefully quiet enough to not be picked up by the camera. “If anyone asks, the zip ties snapped when I tipped over.”

Harley looks at the intact ties and frowns but then Peter pulls his arms up off the armrests, simultaneously snapping both zip ties before he has a chance to respond. Peter rolls to his feet and feigns shock as he faces the doorway.

“Spider-Man?! How did you find us? Oh my goodness we’re so lucky you’re here! They were shooting at us and Mr. Stark can’t find us and-,”

Peter keeps motor-mouthing, rushing for the door and hoping no one on the other side of the camera thinks too much about Harley’s reaction as he whirls to face the doorway, stumbling as the chair attached to his arms swings around with him and throws off his balance. Harley stares in confusion at the closed door and the apparent lack of superheroes.

Once Peter’s out of view he quickly toes out of his dress shoes and scurries up the wall in his socks, his fingers and toes easily sticking to the surface. He rips the camera free and smashes it to pieces against the wall. Then drops down into an easy crouch and whirls to face a stunned Harley.

“Don’t freak out.”

  
.  
~ **Harley** ~  
.

He’s freaking out.

Parker just fucking Spider-Maned up the wall! In socks! How? The? fuck???

The past several months play like a film reel in his head and things start clicking together in a way he never could have anticipated.

Parker always refers to Spider-Man’s suit or tech as “my suit” or “my shooters”. Harley thought he was being possessive over them and it pissed him off because he put a ton of work into them too. Well, not the shooters. He hardly even knows what they look like because apparently only Spider-Man works on the shooters. He definitely put a lot of work into the suit though. It’s almost always him that patches it up when it gets torn up because Parker’s never around…

Holy shit because he’s hurt! When the suit gets torn that means Spidey got hurt and if Parker is Spider-Man…

The injuries. How did he never think twice about the random cuts and bruises? He figured it was Parker’s little high school bully dishing out the marks, but now that he thinks about it there’s no way Tony would let it go if Parker was getting bullied like that. In hindsight, he’s not sure how he ever convinced himself it was plausible in the first place. Probably because he never likes thinking about Parker more than he absolutely has to.

Then there are all the times when Tony and Parker would be having a conversation and would awkwardly cut it short when Harley walked into the room. He thought they were talking about him or that maybe Parker was in on some top-secret projects that he wasn’t allowed to know about. Turns out it’s Tony who was in on the secret, not the other way around.

“Harley?” Peter probes, breaking into his thoughts. He’s still standing in front of the door but his shoes are back on and he’s wringing his hands.

“I know it’s… a shock. And I definitely should have told you a long time ago. It’s not like I thought you’d tell anyone, I swear! I just, it’s my secret identity, you know?” He begins to pace, gesturing with his hands as he rambles.

“And it feels like the more people that know, the bigger chance there is that everyone will find out and then Aunt May would be in danger all the time and Ned and MJ and their families and, and May would have to come live at the tower and even quit her job. There’s no way we could get the hospital secure enough for her to be able to keep working and she would hate that. She would hate that so much and it would be all my fault. So I couldn’t tell you even though you help a lot with the suit and you already know the Avengers and we see each other practically every day. I just-,”

“God, just… shut up and let me think” Harley says without his usual bite. He stares at Parker. Peter Parker. Huge dork and Bambi-eyed prodigy to Tony Stark. Perfect Parker who can do no wrong and gets doted on by literally everyone. Parker who is always kind and polite whether he’s talking to the janitor or the CEO.

Actually, it all makes perfect sense. Of fucking course Perfect Parker is Spider-Man.

“Alright, so you’re Spider-Man,” Harley says, finally sitting back down in his chair and letting out a relieved breath. The weight of the chair had been causing the zip ties to cut painfully into his wrists. “You got any scissors on ya, Spidey?”

Parker stares at him like he’s not sure what to make of his relatively easy acceptance of his super secret alter ego and then cracks a tentative smile and pats his dress slacks like he might actually have a pair of scissors in there.

“Uh lemme check.” Parker bounds over to the desk and starts yanking open drawers. “Ah-ha!” he whips out a pair of kindergartner-sized safety scissors.

Harley stares. “These guys aren’t very good at this, are they?”

Parker snorts and jogs over behind Harley. It only takes a moment and a brief tug and then Harley’s free.

“No, they’re really not. That’s why we’re just gonna leave.”

Harley gingerly moves his arms, wincing at the sharp pricks of pain that shoot down to his numb fingers. “Do you know where we are?”

“I was pretending to be unconscious so I didn’t really get a good look at which way we went, but we were only in the van for like half an hour.” Parker pulls what looks like a tiny chunk of black plastic out of his pants pocket while he talks and smashes it between his wrists. Nano-tech crawls over his skin until suddenly Spider-Man’s web shooters are encasing his wrists.

“Woah,” Harley says and then he shakes himself. This is still the same annoying kid he’s had to put up with for the past five months. There’s no reason for him to start fanboying all over him and his tech.

“Does chloroform not work on you or what?” he asks. “Why didn’t you web ‘em up and skip all of this?”

“Well first of all, secret identity. Peter Parker doesn’t get to just web people up,” Parker says. “Second, I think I was metabolizing it too fast for it to knock me out. I got really dizzy and disoriented but that wore off after a few minutes.” Parker shrugs. “I thought about trying to fight them anyway but then they were taking you and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight them and get to you in time. I figured it’d be better to stick together so I pretended to pass out.”

“Lucky,” Harley mutters, trying not to focus on the way his head is aching or the cottony feel of his tongue in his mouth. “So d’you think we could walk out of here and make it back to the tower within an hour?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Parker says with a grin. “But first, wait here. I’m going to take care of those morons real quick before they notice the camera feed is down and then we can head out.”

Parker opens the door, somehow managing to minimize the horrible screech of the rusted hinges, and reveals the dark hallway beyond.

“I’m coming with you,” Harley says.

Parker shoots him a look. “I’ve got super reflexes, strength, and a healing factor. You don’t. I’ll be fine. I’ll only be like, a minute. Two, tops.”

As much as Harley hates it, he can’t argue with that logic. Damn him.

“Alright,” he says reluctantly.

Parker looks taken aback but then he grins and steps into the hall in the direction the baddies went.

“Parker, wait.”

He turns to face Harley, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll web the door shut if you try to follow me.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “I’m not stupid. Just… don’t let them see you.”

Surprise alights Parker’s face and he grins again. “Didn’t know you cared,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes.

Harley scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “I just don’t want to deal with the drama of the whole criminal underground of New York finding out Spider-Man’s some scrawny 17-year-old.”

Parker squawks. “I’m not scrawny!”

Harley looks Parker up and down and, yeah. Okay. He has a point. He fills out his dark purple suit and white button-up very nicely. Damn him.

He’s saved from having to come up with a response by a small commotion down the hall. Probably the baddies finally noticing the camera feed is no longer running.

“BRB!” Parker says and then does an unnecessary backflip before disappearing into the dark, leaving Harley alone.

There’s a short stretch of silence that seems to drag on forever. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, he pats his empty pockets (what happened to his phone?) and glances around for a weapon, just in case. He has a feeling that neither the safety scissors or the lantern will do much good against three goons and at least one gun.

As he thinks it, a flurry of gunshots and screams break the silence. He flinches and grabs the metal chair and tucks himself beside the doorway, ready to swing the chair at anyone who makes it past Parker and comes his way.

As suddenly as the screams begin, everything stops. The only thing Harley can hear is his own breathing, too loud in his ears. He strains to hear anything at all. There’s a light scuff outside the door and he tightens his grip on the chair.

“Harley?” Parker steps into the room and whips his head around to stare at him as Harley drops the chair with a relieved burst of air. It clatters noisily to the ground, but he doesn’t care.

“You good?” Harley asks, breathing deeply to try and slow his racing heart.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. I don’t suppose you found our phones in there?”

Peter pulls a face. “No, they threw those out of the van on the way here. But don’t worry, Mr. Stark will give us new ones.”

“Great,” Harley says dryly. He doesn’t remember the last time he backed everything up but it’s not like he’s been taking a lot of pictures since coming to New York or anything. He doubts he lost anything he’ll miss. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

He steps into the hall and stops dead in his tracks.

“Nope,” he says. The hallway is pitch black in either direction. It seems like the only light on the entire floor is their puny little lantern. No way is he going to stumble his way through the dark. Fuck that. He walks back into the room and snatches the lantern off the desk.

“Oh good idea,” Peter says, falling into step beside him. “Forgot, you probably can’t see.”

Harley turns and shoots him an incredulous stare. “You mean you can?”

The lantern provides a dim sphere of light that barely illuminates the floor and walls around them and makes Harley feel almost as blind as he did without it.

“Enhanced senses,” he says nonchalantly as he stares into the darkness beyond the lantern light.

Curiosity sparks within Harley and he decides to entertain it. It’s already been a weird fucking night, so he might as well embrace it. At this point, who cares if Parker thinks his questions are annoying? It’s not like they could like each other any less.

“How enhanced?” Harley asks. “All of your senses, or just sight? Everybody already knows Spid- I mean, you have super strength and you said earlier that you heal fast.”

Parker looks surprised and pleased at Harley’s interest which surprises Harley in turn. He’d have thought he wouldn’t want random people prying into his Spider-Man business.

“Only my sight, hearing, and smell are enhanced. Not so much touch or taste, thank God. Enhanced smell receptors while living in New York is bad enough. Oh, plus I have a sixth sense kind of thing.”

“Wait, you can see the future?”

“What? No!” He makes a face at Harley. “Well, sort of. I can sense danger.”

“Oh.”

They round a corner and Parker tells him there’s a stairwell at the end of the hall. Harley can’t see that far yet so he takes his word for it.

“So you knew we were going to get snatched before it happened?”

“Not exactly.” Parker's expression turns thoughtful. “It’s not that precise. I knew something was going to happen but I didn’t know what. Honestly, I kinda thought you were going to kick me or something.”

Harley stops walking abruptly.

Parker sighs. “We’re never going to make it out of here if you-,”

“Is that why you can always dodge me?”

Parker grins at him and says nothing. Harley makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat and starts walking again. Not. Cool.

“To be fair,” Parker says, “you shouldn’t be kicking people.”

“To be fair, you’re the only one I ever try to kick.”

“Aww. I feel so special.”

“Special Ed,” Harley grumbles and then stops walking again as another thought strikes him.

Parker groans. “Harley, we’ve gotta-,”

He starts walking again to stop Parker’s complaining and says, “You said your sight, hearing, and smell are enhanced.”

“Yep. Those are three of the five senses. We learned them back in like, Pre-K. Good job, Harles. A+.”

“Don’t call me that,” Harley retorts reflexively. “So, you’re not autistic.”

This time it’s Parker who stops mid-step. “What? Yeah, no I’m not. As far as I know anyway. I don’t… I don’t think so? You thought I was autistic?”

Harley shrugs and pulls open the door to the stairwell. “Yeah.”

They start heading up, passing a sign that proclaims their current floor as B3. Harley sighs and resigns himself to climbing three flights of stairs. He can feel Parker staring at his back as they climb so he generously decides to explain.

“Tony said you have days where everything is too much. Sensory overload is what he called it. And you have to sit in a dark quiet room for a while until everything mellows out. And you always complain when me and Tony have the music too loud, but he never gives you a hard time about it like he does literally everyone else. He just turns it down. And Friday is programmed to dim the lights by 25% before you come into the lab. Oh and then there was that one time I wore cologne and you were practically physically repelled by me.”

He smirks at the memory. He’d been tempted to wear it all the time after that but didn’t want to actually be a dick.

“Makes sense I guess,” Parker murmurs behind him.

Harley shrugs. Two floors to go and he’s already starting to feel winded. “I wasn’t really sure. I’ve never actually met someone with autism. Rose Hill is too small. Both physically small and small-minded. So I was only going off the stuff I read online.”

Talking is making the whole breathing thing more difficult so he’s grateful when Parker doesn’t respond. They trek the rest of the way up the stairs in silence and before he knows it they’re stepping out the front door and under the streetlights.

Harley turns to face Parker, a quip on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it. Something is wrong. Parker is pale and sweating and breathing as heavily as Harley is. He’s standing weird, like he doesn’t want to put any weight on his leg. Harley holds the lantern closer and sees a slick shiny patch on Peter’s thigh, dark with blood and a jagged bullet hole.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Parker says, out of breath.

Harley continues to stare. His brain feels broken. “What the fuck, Parker. Did you get shot?”

  
.  
~ **Peter** ~  
.

  
Peter tries to catch his breath in vain. His leg is on fire. Pain pulses duly from the entry wound down to his toes. He was doing fine until they hit the second flight of stairs. He’s actually pretty proud that he’d been able to walk normally and banter with Harley without giving away that there’s a bullet in his leg.

It was a lucky shot that the kidnapper guy fired wildly and it ricocheted off the metal door and embedded itself into Peter’s thigh. It’s not the worst he’s had so he decided to keep it to himself rather than risk Harley panicking.

Harley is still staring at where Peter’s blood is sluggishly leaking out of his thigh. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you say anything? Sit down you idiot!”

“I’m fine.” Peter shrugs Harley’s hands off his shoulders and tries to continue on down the stairs leading to the sidewalk.

Turns out they’re in a neighborhood that never got fixed up after the Chitauri attack a decade ago. He cranes his neck trying to read the street sign down the street but the angle is wrong and he can’t make it out. By the looks of it, the whole area was abandoned and hasn’t been repaired and renovated. The street is clear, but there are smashed and crumbling buildings all up and down the street. It’s eerie to stand on the sidewalk in the city and be alone.

“Parker for fuck’s sake would you-,”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” he insists. “I’ve had worse. Let’s get-,”

“NO!”

Peter turns to face Harley, bewildered. Harley never raises his voice. It would contradict his Cool Guy persona and ruin his image as the guy who doesn’t care about anything.

“Sit the fuck down!”

Peter does so, staring at Harley like he’s been body-snatched. Has he been body-snatched?

“What’s Mr. Stark’s favorite cereal?” Peter asks, his tone grave.

“You know Tony doesn’t eat anything as pedestrian as cereal!” Harley exclaims looking stricken. “What is wrong with you? Is it blood loss? Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Probably not body-snatched then. Peter leans back against the building still staring at Harley as he wiggles out of his suit jacket and starts trying to tie it around Peter’s leg as a tourniquet. Peter sighs.

“Seriously, Harley. I’m okay. I’ll stitch it shut when we get back and it’ll be healed by morning. No big.” He doesn’t mention that the bullet is still in his leg and if he doesn’t get it out soon his healing factor will heal the wound closed over it and he’ll need to cut it back open to get the bullet out before stitching anything. He hates it when that happens.

“Shut the fuck up, Parker. Just… let me…”

Begrudgingly, he holds still while Harley wraps the suit jacket around his thigh. He bites his tongue to keep from telling Harley how ineffectual it’s going to be but then Harley pulls the jacket tight, directly over the entry wound and Peter gasps at the sharp burning pain that cuts through him.

“Shit, sorry sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Peter says through gritted teeth, irritation rising. The pain fades back down to a manageable level and he tentatively stretches his leg. The jacket moves, too bulky to be tied tight enough to do any good. Harley curses and starts untying it.

“Try this.” Peter tips back his head and pulls his tie loose, resigning himself to the fact that if they ever want to get home, he’s going to have to endure Nurse Harley first. He holds the tie out to him and sighs as Harley tries the same ineffectual method of tying it around his thigh.

“That’s not going to work,” Peter tells him, waving away Harley’s hands. “We need like, a stick or something.” He scans the area for anything suitable, but there’s not a lot to work with. There aren’t exactly an abundance of trees lying around, not in this part of the city anyway. He spots a pop can lying on the side of the road. It’ll have to do.

“Go get that can,” he tells Harley, pointing.

Harley turns and squints. “I can’t fucking see, Parker. It’s dark.”

Peter rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s New York. It’s never dark.

“Take the lantern and walk over there. You’ll see it in the street.”

With a huff, Harley does as he’s told and returns with the can. He starts trying to wind the tie around it but Peter plucks it from his fingers and crushes it with his bare hands until it’s thin and cylindrical. It’s pretty flimsy so he folds it in half and crushes it down some more until it’s nicely compact like a large dowel.

When he passes it back to Harley he makes sure to hide the cuts on his palms from the thin, jagged aluminum. They’ll heal in a few minutes anyway. Maybe a little longer if his healing factor is focusing on his leg.

“Try to wind the tie up good and tight above the wound turning the pop can like a key on a music box. We’ll need something to secure it. Like a hair tie or a key chain ring or something.”

Harley gets to his feet. “I’ll see what I can find.”

It only takes a minute before Harley returns with a soggy scrunchie. Peter makes a face but doesn’t complain. The sooner they get this over with, the sooner he can go home. This time, with Peter’s guidance, Harley is able to secure a passable tourniquet. When he’s finished he frowns at it for a long moment, one hand resting absently on Peter’s ankle.

“You’ve done this before,” Harley says eventually.

Peter shrugs. “I told you I’ve had worse. This time it didn’t even hit the artery!” His grin fades as Harley fails to react beyond tightening his grip on Peter’s ankle. He continues to stare sightlessly at Peter’s blood-soaked slacks.

“C’mon Harley. You don’t gotta worry about me. I’m Spider-Man.” He knocks his foot against Harley’s thigh and Harley snatches his hand away from Peter’s ankle like it’s a live wire. He scrubs his hands over his face.

“It’s not- You don’t get it, Peter.”

Peter’s irritation reaches its breaking point. He’s so tired of people treating him like something to be coddled and kept safe. He’s tired of having to fight for every inch of respect he can wrangle out of people. He’s goddamn tired of being told he doesn’t know how hard it is to see him put himself in danger.

He’s got superpowers and he’s going to use them and everyone needs to accept that.

He twists to his feet, not stumbling even though his leg flares brightly with pain and flips over Harley and the stairs to the sidewalk where he lands solidly on his feet. Harley whirls around, astonishment and concern muddling his expression.

“Peter-,”

“Stop it,” Peter snaps. “I don’t need another babysitter, alright? Iron Man and the Avengers already have a pretty tight hold on the leash so if you think you need to worry about the spider baby, do me a favor and don’t.”

Harley blinks owlishly at him. “Wha- I wasn’t- You got shot!”

“No, Spider-Man got shot. Would you worry about Cap taking a bullet to the leg? No! He’ll be healed up in a few hours, right? So why is it a big deal when this stuff happens to me? How come nobody trusts me to take care of myself? I’m not just some kid!”

Harley shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not tryin’ to treat you like a kid. I’m freaking the fuck out because my nerdy, annoying, goody-two-shoes lab partner has a bullet in his leg and we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere and we don’t have any medical supplies.”

“Spider-Man got shot,” Peter corrects him. “Spider-Man can take a bullet and be fine. So cut it out!”

“I can’t just turn it off!”

“Well try!”

“You’re such a fucking pain in the ass, Parker.” Harley spits. “Just let me be worried about it for like five minutes!”

“No. I’m fine.”

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Harley says, “Whatever, let’s get the hell out of here then. What do I know.”

He starts walking and Peter strides beside him, determined to keep pace despite the pain radiating down his leg and curling his toes. He can handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on Tumblr! Writing Blog: Sarah-Sandwich.tumblr.com; Main Blog: weasleychick32.tumblr.com


	2. You’re on his side now?

~ **Harley** ~

Harley can accept being kidnapped and held for ransom. He can handle finding out his dorky co-intern is Spider-Man. He can sort of deal with said dork having a bullet in his leg. But to find out Parker is used to treating his own gunshot wounds? To see him calm in the face of all that blood? For him to be trying to soothe Harley while he’s the one with a bullet in him?

It’s fucked up. It’s all so fucked up.

It’s dark and they’re walking the streets of New York in their fancy evening wear and he wants to yell at him. No. He wants to yell at Tony, he realizes. He wants to know why the fuck Parker knows how to do any of that stuff. I’ll just stitch it shut, Parker had said. Okay! Like that's supposed to be comforting? What’s the point of Iron Man and the Avengers having your back if you don’t get the best medical care money can buy? Why the hell is a teenager stitching together his own gunshot wounds when there are medical professionals on stand-by specifically for the Avengers night or day?

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s walking super fast in all his agitation and it’s probably hard on Parker’s leg. He tries to slow down without Parker catching on, but Parker keeps the same pace and breezes on past Harley. He rolls his eyes and falls into step beside him once more.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know,” Harley grumbles. “I already know Spidey’s a badass.”

Parker clenches his jaw and for a moment Harley thinks he’s going to ignore him. That’d be a first.

“I’m not trying to prove myself. I just want to go home.”

Harley doesn’t believe him one bit but can get behind the sentiment. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around. He’s only been in New York for five months and most of that has been spent holed up in the tower so of course, nothing is familiar.

God damn, he misses the color green.

“Are we even going the right way?” He’d picked a direction and started walking and Parker hadn’t stopped him, but that doesn’t mean he has any better an idea of where they are than Harley does.

Parker shrugs and Harley sighs and tries not to project his concern. Apparently being concerned just pisses him off. Before today, he hadn’t known Parker could get angry. He always seems so happy-go-lucky.

“I can go check,” Parker offers, looking at Harley from the corner of his eye.

Harley frowns at him, confused, but then Parker glances up to the nearest rooftop.

“Like I could stop you if I wanted to,” Harley gripes.

To his surprise, Parker grins and then he’s gone. A hop, skip, and a jump, a little webbing for a boost and he’s heaving himself over the lip of the roof with one hand and disappearing from sight.

Harley determinedly keeps his hands in his pockets but can’t stop his lips from pursing in displeasure. How the hell does Tony’s heart keep up with watching Parker recklessly defy gravity? He feels sick just thinking about being up that high with nothing to catch him except his reflexes. That could be the acrophobia talking though. Maybe Tony is totally chill about the whole thing.

Harley snorts to himself. Tony is one of the least chill people he knows. Maybe he doesn’t have a crippling fear of heights, but he’s got some kind of anxiety disorder so Harley figures that evens things out between them.

A moment later, Parker reappears, flashing a quick thumbs-up before doing a little flip and free-falling over the edge of the roof. Harley can’t stop the sound of distress that crawls out of his throat or the step he takes forward. He needn’t have worried. Parker flings out a line of web onto a street lamp and swings down to land perfectly into a casual stroll without so much as missing a step.

Harley lets out a pent up breath and tries to feign indifference. He’s pretty sure Parker is messing with him and like hell he’s going to give him the satisfaction of seeing him scared.

“We need to cut left at some point but we’re good going this way for now.”

Harley nods and they resume walking. Parker seems better already which blows his mind. He’s not as pale and the pinch between his eyebrows is almost gone. He knows he doesn’t spend as much time with the Avengers as Parker does, but Parker was right earlier. He has become desensitized to the various injuries they constantly return to the tower with.

It’s different with Parker. He tells himself it’s because Parker is his age and because the news that he’s Spider-Man hasn’t sunk in yet. It’d be different if he was wearing the Spider-Man suit. It’d be different if when Harley looked at him he didn’t see Perfect Parker looking fit in a tux with a bullet hole in his thigh.

When the night started, he thought the hardest thing he’d have to do was pretend not to be annoyed by the ultra-wealthy guests. He’d thought the second hardest thing would be not staring at Parker. He accepted how cute he is a long time ago and refused to be drawn in by his soft curls and his big brown eyes that sparkle with excitement when he talks about things he finds interesting. He got over it months ago and considers himself immune.

But then he saw Parker in his suit and his styled hair and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he looks that cute on an everyday basis and then can turn it around and look fucking hot as hell with a simple change of clothes.

And now he’s Spider-Man and Harley has to come to terms with the fact that he’s been kind of a dick to not just any old superhero, but probably the nicest superhero of them all. The one that rescues cats from trees and helps old ladies cross the street and then turns around and beats up armed bank robbers and shit. All because he was jealous that Tony practically adopted another kid before he could get out of Tennessee.

He sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled and stuff back there. That… wasn’t cool of me.” He cringes internally at the rare bout of awkwardness.

Parker raises his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, it was weird. Why do you care so much about being cool anyway?”

Harley looks at him. “What? I don’t care about being cool. I meant it wasn’t… I dunno. I should’ve held it together better. That’s all.”

Parker scoffs under his breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Harley narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always trying so hard to be like… aloof or whatever,” Parker blurts. “It’s annoying. What’s so bad about showing you care? Getting excited about stuff?”

Harley stares at him. “I’m not trying to be aloof. That’s just… how I am.”

It’s the truth. He still gets excited about things. He still cares. He just feels those things on the inside and if he wants to show that on the outside he has to choose to let it show. He’s not like Parker where everything he’s feeling is constantly bubbling out of him. He’s more open with Tony and Pepper, but with Parker around… Well, he just takes up so much more space than Harley and Harley’s never been the type to fight for the attention of the room. Well, maybe he was once, but a lot has changed since then.

Parker shoots him a disbelieving look and it irks him like nothing else. Like he seriously thinks all Harley cares about is what Parker thinks of him.

He stops walking and scowls at Parker who glares back with a clenched jaw. “If you don’t want me to assume you can’t handle yourself then you don’t get to assume I’m trying to be some kind of apathetic douchebag,” he snaps. “Where I’m from kids who bounce around babbling about how much they love math get beat up and tossed in the dumpster and ostracized by the whole town. So I just don’t.”

Parker’s expression flickers, concern filling his big brown eyes as his glare fades. It just makes Harley even more resentful.

“Put those things away, Bambi. I don’t need your pity.”

He stalks off, knowing Peter will catch up. Sure enough, he doesn’t get two steps down the sidewalk before Parker falls into step beside him. The night catches up with him all at once and suddenly, he’s tired. He’s so goddamn tired. He misses his sister and Mama and the feeling of grass under his bare feet, the sound of the wind rustling leaves, and the smell of dirt and worms after a good rain.

He’s so sick of concrete, traffic, lights, sounds, the constant press of people all the goddamn time, and most of all, he’s sick to death of superhero drama.

Almost on queue, Parker jerks his head up to look up at the sky. A second later Harley hears repulsors firing and then Iron Man flies over a building and lowers himself to the sidewalk in front of them. The faceplate flips back and Tony Stark frowns down at them.

“$500 million, Pete? Really?”

Parker grins sheepishly. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. To be fair, they were really bad at extortion.”

~*~

Harley flat out refuses to be flown back to the tower so they’re forced to suffer through Tony’s lecture while they wait for a car to arrive to drive them back. It’s weird seeing Parker get reprimanded for anything. In all of Harley’s months here this is the first time he’s seen Parker get called out on his bullshit and, weirdly, he doesn’t think he deserves it.

He’s a superhero. He did a superhero thing. Why is he getting yelled at about it?

The third time Tony brings up the major risk Parker took in almost revealing his secret identity on live TV, Harley finds he can’t stay quiet any longer.

“Hey Tony here’s an idea,” Harley says, cutting Tony off mid-sentence, “when we get back maybe take a Xanax and a nap and let Parker have five minutes of peace after saving the day.”

“Oh, you’re on his side now?” Tony says. “I’ve been trying to get the two of you to get along for months and you’re going to team up against me over this? He got shot, Harley.”

Harley shrugs, pretending for a moment like he didn’t also freak out over the bullet in the leg thing. “Maybe we are,” Harley says, not looking at Parker. “Or maybe I’m just sick of listening to you fawn all over him like a mother hen.”

Tony scoffs and crosses metal arms over his chest. “I am not mother-henning him.”

Harley laughs, a real genuine one. It’s such a blatant lie that he doesn’t lend credence to it by arguing any further. “Whatever you say, Iron Mom.”

Tony squawks and Parker is looking away and holding his breath, clearly trying not to laugh.

“You know your mom gave me the power to ground you, right?”

“Not helping your case.”

“That’s it. You’re grounded,” Tony says. “No lab privileges for the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh no,” Harley deadpans. “At least I won’t be zip-tied to a chair with a gun pointed at my head.”

He doesn’t mean for the comment to hit so hard but Tony’s expression shutters and an awkward silence falls over them.

“Did Mama… D’you know if she saw?” Harley asks after a beat.

Tony shoots him a sympathetic look and Harley’s heart plummets into his stomach. “She called a little while ago. She seemed like she was handling it okay. Could hear your sister cussing up a storm in the background though.”

Of course she seemed fine. Harley’s mother is nothing if not at the top of her game at all times, especially in front of her kids. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t panicking on the inside though. He feels guilt settle in a wiggly ball in his gut at the thought of how much stress he caused her.

Harley swallows thickly. “Did you let her know I’m okay?”

“Not yet. I wanted to get to you first and make sure you really were okay. F.R.I.D.A.Y. send a message to Josie Keener saying Harley’s safe and he’ll call as soon as he can. Send one to May about Peter too.”

“Thanks.” He’s not looking forward to that call. His ma wasn’t ever going to stop him from leaving Rose Hill, but she definitely wasn’t excited about him going to New York and buddying up with a well-known public figure who’s been targeted by terrorists in the past.

A sleek black car turns the corner and pulls up at the curb along-side them. It’s not Happy behind the wheel. He left for his vacation last week and isn’t supposed to be back until the end of the summer. He’s pretty sure Rhodey and Tony have a bet going on whether or not he’ll be able to stick out the entire vacation. Apparently, he has some control issues when it comes to Tony and Pepper’s safety.

“I’ll meet you boys back at the tower,” Tony tells them, his faceplate flipping down into place. “Cho should be ready and waiting for you in the garage when you get there.”

Parker makes a face. “Alright. See you there I guess.” He climbs into the car and Harley climbs in after him, not watching as Tony takes off behind him, repulsors firing. He shuts the door and the car pulls away from the curb before he can even get his seatbelt on.

“Thanks,” Parker says after a few minutes of silence.

“For-? Oh that. Yeah, no problem. He was being ridiculous.” Harley feels eyes on the side of his face so he turns to meet Parker’s stare. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he’s looking at Harley like he’s a puzzle he can’t figure out how to put together. “What?”

Parker shakes his head and looks out the window and silence falls once more.

“He always like that?” Harley asks.

“Pretty much.”

“Huh.”

They fall quiet again and Harley’s struck with how strange it is to sit alone with Parker and not feel that familiar sting of animosity. Weirdly, finding out Parker is so much more fantastical than he’d ever expected is the thing to finally cure him of that always-present undercurrent of jealousy. Of course Tony and Pepper fawn all over him.

It’s not because they’re playing favorites. It’s not because Parker was there first or because he’s been there longer. It’s because Parker deserves it. You’d think that would make him feel worse, but it does the opposite, lifting the burden of being forever second-best. Because of course he’s second best. Parker’s a teenage superhero. He’s Spider-Man.

He never stood a chance.

~ **Peter** ~

That night, things get weird.

Mr. Stark’s lecture about safety is full of quips, sarcasm, and a touch of hypocrisy (per the norm). He sends him down to the med bay to get patched up by Dr. Cho and a horde of nurses (per the norm). Captain America and Co. make an appearance to check on him and passive-aggressively bring to his attention how reckless he was in not waiting for Mr. Stark and for baiting the kidnappers (per the norm). Aunt May stops by and hugs him real tight and tells him how scared she was and asks him to be more careful in the future (per the norm).

What’s not normal is Harley.

Peter kind of expected they’d either go back to the same old same or that Harley would join the crowd of people hovering over him and expressing their concern with his choices. He didn’t expect Harley to stand up for him to Mr. Stark. He didn’t expect him to smuggle a pizza into the med bay and kick out the Avengers so they could watch Stranger Things. He didn’t expect him to hug Aunt May and thank her for doing such a good job raising the hero who saved his life.

It’s less unexpected when he glares over her shoulder at Peter in the hospital bed and mouths ‘You owe me’.

It’s weird having someone in his corner. It’s weird that it’s Harley Keener of all people. He didn’t expect him to change. He didn’t expect him to stick.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Harley says, not looking at Peter while he navigates Netflix on his laptop, “you can’t just start in the middle. You gotta start at the beginning to catch all the plot points and get to know the characters.”

“Did you just call me sweetheart?” Peter asks.

They’re side-by-side in Peter’s hospital bed with the bed raised so they can sit up. Harley’s laptop is propped up on his knees and his wrists are lightly bandaged from where the zip ties cut into him while Peter’s thigh is three times its usual size from all the padding and medical tape covering it. The hospital beds here in the tower aren’t small by any means, but they’re still only meant to house one person at a time. This means that every time Peter tries to shift into a more comfortable position, their arms brush and he has to force himself to sit still.

Harley’s acting like nothing weird is going on and Peter is desperately trying to do the same but he doesn’t think he’s managing it very well. He did fine while they were eating the pizza, but that was mostly because he was too busy stuffing his face to worry about conversation. They weren’t friends before getting kidnapped and he doesn’t think they’re friends now, but Harley’s still here when he doesn’t have to be and Peter’s not sure what to make of that.

Is it because he’s Spider-Man? He doesn’t think so. Harley doesn’t seem star-struck. If anything, he seems like he’s trying to keep busy. So Peter lets him stay and lets him boss him around and lecture him about the right way to watch TV shows.

Harley rolls his eyes. “It’s a southern thing. Don’t overthink it.” Then he mutters “Yankees,” under his breath and Peter isn’t sure if he meant for him to overhear it or not. Super hearing can be complicated like that.

“Anyway,” Harley continues at normal volume, “I don’t mind re-watching from the beginning. And since you ain’t seen it yet, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

He doesn’t leave Peter time to respond before he hits play.

Peter doesn’t make it through the intro before his eyelids droop. Now that his belly is full of pizza and he’s safe and warm with an added body of warmth at his side, he’s struggling to stay awake. Which sucks because he’s been wanting to watch Stranger Things. He’s just been so busy with senior year, decathlon, finals, Spider-Man, and the internship (the real one) that he hasn’t had the time to keep up with anything that takes longer than scarfing down a meal.

Harley pauses the show after only a few minutes of awkwardly trying to 1) stay awake and 2) hold perfectly still so he doesn’t accidentally touch Harley more than strictly necessary.

He turns to look at Peter and asks bluntly, “D’you want me to leave?”

Peter blinks at him. “What? Uh, no?”

“Then get comfortable. You being so tense is making me tense.”

Peter hugs his arms around his middle. “I am comfortable.”

He’s not. And he knows Harley knows he’s not. He’s never been shy about cuddling, as Mr. Stark can attest. Movie nights almost always end with Harley sprawled out in a chair while Peter is wrapped like an octopus around Mr. Stark either fully passed out or nearly there.

But it’s different with Harley. He’s not friends with Harley. He doesn’t know Harley. As far as Peter knows, Harley isn’t a cuddler. At least, he’s never seen him cuddle anyone. Granted, he’s only seen Harley around Mr. Stark and the Avengers. Maybe Harley cuddles with other people.

Harley rolls his eyes and then looks away as he says, “Look, I know you think I’ve been acting like an asshat and maybe I have been, but I swear I don’t bite. Just… settle in.”

Peter furrows his brow and stares. Is Harley wanting to cuddle? Is he a secret snuggler? Or is this his way of trying to comfort Peter? He has so many questions and he’s not sure how to voice them.

Harley glances at Peter and must see his confusion because he sighs. “Listen, I know you’re used to all this superhero stuff, but I… I got kidnapped and shot at today and my ma and little sister had to watch it happen on the news and I just…” He swallows thickly. 

“I really don’t want to go sit in the dark by myself and I don’t want to deal with Tony or the others while they’re being so overbearing. If you want me to go, I’ll go, but I’m not… I’m not here because I think you need the company.”

Oh. Peter feels kind of like an idiot for not considering how Harley might be feeling about the whole getting kidnapped thing. He hadn’t been scared or worried but it makes sense that Harley was and that he wouldn’t want to be alone afterward. He’s surprised that he’d rather be with Peter than with Mr. Stark, but in a way, that makes sense too.

“Oh okay,” he says. “I just… I don’t know what you mean, I guess.”

Harley looks at him, incredulous.

“About getting comfortable,” Peter explains hastily. He can feel a blush staining his cheeks and he sort of wants to die. “I just… You’ve never really seemed like a cuddler? So I don’t know what’s okay and what’s not and it’s really weird, but not like, bad weird just different weird, you know? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything and I just-,”

“God Parker shut the fuck up and just… get… comfortable.” He pokes and prods at Peter until he unfolds his arms from around his middle. Then he puts his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him against his side until Peter’s head is resting on his shoulder.

Peter doesn’t breathe for a long moment, but Harley seems unfazed as he pulls the blanket up around their shoulders and asks, “You good?”

Harley’s arm is wrapped around his back and his body heat seeps into Peter and the blanket traps it around him like a cocoon. His eyelids droop as he lets go of any of the remaining hesitation that was stopping him from relaxing fully.

“Mmhmm. You?”

“Yeah. Don’t drool on me.”

Peter stops fighting against the weight of his eyelids. “No promises.”

Harley hits play on the laptop and Peter is asleep within minutes.

~ **Harley** ~

After all the struggle it took to get him to relax, he’s dumbfounded at how quickly Peter’s able to fall asleep. Apparently, when he’s asleep he doesn’t have any of the reservations Awake Peter has about cuddling Harley. Not even ten minutes into the first episode Peter’s arms circle around Harley’s waist and hug him tightly.

It shocks him how good it feels. He hadn’t realized how long it’s been since he’s been held. Him, Mama, and Abbie aren’t super tactile but he doesn’t think a day went by without him hugging or being hugged by one of them. He’s horrified to find himself tearing up and quickly wrestles his emotions under control. It doesn’t have anything to do with Peter, he’s sure of that much, but it’d be embarrassing and impossible to explain if he starts sobbing all over the place and wakes him up.

Then Peter starts snoring. Harley still doesn’t want to be alone but is being trapped in bed with a snoring Peter any better?

Yes, he admits to himself. It is. He’d only been in his room for the ten minutes it took to convince his ma and Abbie that he’s okay and there no need for them to catch the next flight out to New York. But that was enough time for him to start getting paranoid, for the shadows to become hiding figures and for his room to shrink three sizes. For the silence to become smothering. Isolating.

So he ordered a pizza and found his way to Peter’s hospital room. It wasn’t hard. He just followed the familiar sound of Captain America’s PSA voice and low and behold, more Avengers were treating Spider-Man like an irresponsible kid. That’s when he decided that maybe it would be in both of their best interests to stick together, at least for the night.

He’d half-expected Peter to kick him out but he didn’t. Instead, he was weirdly quiet as he watched Harley make himself at home and didn’t complain when Harley made space for himself in the bed and decided what they’d be watching and then arranged him into a more comfortable position.

He thinks the feeling of being connected to another human being after months of nothing is the reason he stays. He probably should leave, either to go to his own bed or to tinker in the lab until the sun comes back up and the shadows disappear. Instead, he lets the show continue to play even after he stops pretending to even look at the screen and lets his eyes fall shut.

~*~

Harley wakes up to a stiff, sore neck and a warm body strewn across his chest. For a moment, he's back in Rose Hill and it's a young Abbie curled against him after having sneaked into his room unable to sleep and afraid of the dark. But only for a moment.

He holds in a groan, not wanting to wake Peter, and rolls his head to the side. There’s a satisfying pop and he sighs in relief. It’s dark outside the small window and the room is only lit by the light from the hallway creeping in under the door. Fumbling blindly, he finds the remote for the bed and starts to lower it down into a flat position.

At the sudden noise, Peter flails and lifts his head. “Wassat?”

There’s a chill on Harley’s chest and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it’s a puddle of drool.

“Just the bed. Go back to sleep Spider-Baby.”

Peter glares at him but dutifully puts his head back down only to pick it right back up, making a sound of dissatisfaction in his throat. “Why’s it wet?”

Harley huffs and sits up enough to reach behind his head and pull off his t-shirt. “Your fault,” he grumbles. “Told you not to drool.”

Peter makes another sound in his throat that Harley thinks might have made it into being actual words if it wasn’t the wee hours of the morning. Harley lays down and sighs happily at being fully horizontal and Peter lays his head back down on Harley’s chest and drapes his arm over Harley’s middle.

Shamelessly, Harley rolls onto his side and curls his arm around Peter’s waist and pulls him close, not caring that he’s now completely encircled within his arms. After months and months of no contact, he’s not sure how to get himself to stop. He feels warm and safe and grounded and it’s a drug he can’t get enough of.

Luckily, Peter doesn’t seem to mind Harley’s sudden clinging. He snuggles in willingly and pushes his knee between Harley’s legs.

“That the hurt one?” Harley asks sleepily.

“‘S healed,” Peter assures him.

“Mmm. Fast,” Harley says and allows Peter to complete their human pretzel.

“Told you.”

“Shut up and sleep.”

“Mmkay.”

Belatedly, Harley realizes that someone must have moved his laptop because it’s no longer on his legs but he doesn’t have the energy to care or wonder about the implications. He’s too warm and comfortable to care about much anything. He falls back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! Hopefully you heeded the three fluff-related tags because that is my jam and it only gets fluffier from here. Thank you for reading! Leave a comment!


	3. You can bet on it

~ **A Special Tony Interlude** ~

In the corner of the room, Tony Stark and May Parker stand stalk still, May with her hands over her mouth and Tony clutching Harley’s laptop in both hands. Tony very carefully sets the laptop on the side table and they trade looks. Grinning, they creep out of Peter’s hospital room as quietly as possible.

Once the door is shut behind them and they’ve made it out into the waiting area, they burst into laughter.

“Oh thank God. Finally,” Tony says, wiping tears from his eyes and giggling. “I thought the tension was going to kill me. If I knew a kidnapping was all it would take to get them to pull their heads out of their asses, I’d have orchestrated one months ago.”

May puts a steadying hand on Tony’s shoulder, still giggling. “They were soooo cute! Oh, I can’t believe Peter’s going to have his first fling.”

“Fling?” Tony echoes. “Oh no. They’re in it for the long haul. You haven’t seen the way they dance around each other in the lab.”

May snorts. “Oh come on. Peter comes home almost every day with a new complaint. Harley did this. Harley said that. They’ll fizzle out once they burn off the tension. They’re too opposite.”

“First of all, gross. Secondly, they’re more alike than you’d think. They’ve got different ways of carrying themselves, but they’re the same where it counts,” he says, tapping his chest.

“Aww Tony, I never knew you were a romantic.”

Tony scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m a realist and those two are the real deal. You can bet on it.”

May’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? I’ll take that bet.”

Tony pulls a face. “I’m not going to take your money, May.”

May shoots him a look. “I’m not dumb enough to bet money with a billionaire. ‘Do you even know how much a billion is?’”

“No no. It’s too soon to joke,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his forehead where a stress headache is stubbornly persisting. “I swear that kid is going to give me an ulcer.”

“You and me both.” May rolls her eyes, but can’t quite hide the ghost of terror left behind after the day they’ve had. She told Tony about her co-worker dragging her into the break room where she found her kid on TV tied to a chair and being threatened with a gun.

Tony looks at May and can’t resist. Besides, he knows he’s going to win. “What would we be betting then?”

May’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “If I win, you have to give a speech at Peter’s graduation. He’ll be so embarrassed but he’ll love it.”

Tony pulls a face. He’s great at public speaking, but at a high school graduation? Tacky. For Peter though… He might do it anyway. Bet or no bet. It’s kinda last minute to arrange that sort of thing, but he’s Tony Stark. Midtown Tech would be crazy to turn him away.

“Fine, but when I win you have to let me outfit your apartment with that security tech I’ve been telling you about.” He holds up a hand when May opens her mouth. “It’ll be discrete. No one will know it’s there except us.”

May snorts. “Since when has Tony Stark ever been discrete? Alright, it’s a bet.”

“Fabulous, I’ll just-,”

May spits in her palm and sticks it towards Tony with an impish grin.

“That’s disgusting. I’m not doing that.”

“Aww c’mon Mr. Billionaire. Come down off your high horse and do as the commoners do.”

Tony wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I can’t believe the riff-raff they allow in this place.” Then he spits delicately into his hand and puts his palm together with May’s. “Oh, it’s so much worse than I was imagining.”

May laughs, delighted. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Stark.”

She wipes her hand clean on her jeans while Tony pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and thoroughly wipes down his palm and between his fingers.

“Get off my property,” he says, nose in the air as he stows his hanky into his pant pocket.

May pats his shoulder fondly (with her spit hand) and starts walking towards the door. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. you got all that, right?”

“Yes, Ms. Parker.”

“Send it to Pepper for me?”

“Already done, Ms. Parker.”

“You’re the best, Fri.”

“You’re a menace,” Tony calls after her. “I don’t know how Pete turned out so sweet. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the boys keep it PG-13.”

May spins around, brandishing her finger at him. “Don’t you dare! No interfering with the bet or you automatically lose. F.R.I.D.A.Y. please call me if Tony does anything to discourage the boys from being close or spending time together.”

“Will do, Ms. Parker.”

May smiles at Tony. Like a shark.

~ **Peter** ~

Peter wakes up gradually, feeling warm and safe. He can’t remember the last time he wasn’t startled awake by a sound, a half-remembered dream, or a nightmare. He snuggles closer to the body beside him, taking comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest and the light puffs of air that tickle his hair.

The hand on his hip twitches and then moves away, much to Peter’s disappointment. He must have made a sound because after Harley finishes scratching his nose he pats Peter on the head and mumbles something unintelligible. It doesn’t matter what he tried to say because then he starts lightly scratching Peter’s scalp and playing with his hair and Peter is in Nirvana.

It doesn’t last nearly as long as he’d like.

“Good morning Peter and Harley.”

Peter nearly jumps out of his skin at F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s sudden greeting and Harley mutters, “Jesus Christ,” while clutching onto Peter.

“I apologize for starling you, but Boss wanted me to warn you that Dr. Cho will be in shortly to check Peter’s injury and determine whether he’s fit to be released.”

Peter sighs. So much for Nirvana. “Thanks, Fri.”

“How soon is soon?” Harley grumbles.

Peter’s not sure if he means that rhetorically, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t answer and he doesn’t ask again so it must have been. With a groan, Peter disentangles himself from Harley and sits up. He blinks down at Harley and wonders when he took off his shirt.

Harley pats his chest and then looks around. “What’d I do with my shirt?”

Peter shrugs. “Why’d you take it off?”

Harley squints at him. “Because you drooled on it like I told you not to and then complained that it was wet.”

“Oh.” Peter takes a moment to process that. “That’ll be mortifying when I wake up.”

Harley snorts. “Don’t worry about it. I knew the risks.” He leans over the edge of the bed and plucks his shirt off the floor and shrugs it on over his head. “Besides, it was worth it. I haven’t slept that good since I left home.”

“Me neither.”

Harley looks at him and smirks. “Yeah? The thought of me been keeping you up at night?”

Peter shrugs and says through a yawn, “Nah, mostly just too much noise and nightmares ‘n stuff.” He stretches and something pops deliciously in his back.

“D’you get those a lot?” Harley asks, teasing tone gone.

Peter shrugs again. “Not every night.” At least the night terrors finally stopped. He’ll take regular old nightmares over those any time.

Harley closes his eyes and waits a long moment before he opens them again. “So what're you doing about that?”

Peter blinks at him drowsily. “Wha’d’you mean?”

“When you say ‘Not every night,’ I hear ‘Pretty much every night.’ That’s not good, Parker. So what are you doing about it?”

“Uhh, my best?”

“Oh my God.”

~ **Harley** ~

Harley is saved from trying to figure out how to respond to Peter’s flippant attitude towards his nightmares by the arrival of Dr. Cho. She knocks lightly on the door and waits until Peter gives her the all-clear before she comes in. She does a double-take when she sees Harley.

“Oh hello.”

Harley stands up and sticks out a hand to shake. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Harley.”

Dr. Cho smiles and takes the offered hand. “Hi, Harley. I’m Dr. Cho. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well.” She glances down at his bandaged wrists and raises her eyebrows. “Has someone taken a look at those?”

“Yeah. One of the nurses cleaned ‘em up yesterday and said to keep ‘em clean and they should heal fine. No scarring.”

Dr. Cho nods. “Good. That’s what we like to hear.” She turns to Peter and Harley takes the opportunity to perch on the side table next to the loveseat.

“Good morning, Peter. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baaaby,” Peter says flopping back onto his relatively unused pillow. “Honestly I feel like, so good right now. Is this how normal people feel all the time?”

Dr. Cho looks surprised and makes a hasty note on the tablet in her hand. “No pain?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘P.’

“That’s great, Peter. I’m going to take a look at the wound site and check that it healed okay and we got all the pieces out.”

“You do you, Doc,” Peter says with a salute.

Dr. Cho shakes her head and gets to work. She slips on a pair of gloves and, to Harley’s surprise, has Peter tug down his pajama bottoms until his thigh is visible. Neither one of them seems to give a second thought to his presence. He doesn’t mean to look. Honest. If he wasn’t so wrong-footed he would have looked away but before he knows it there’s skin and boxers and the bandages are being removed and… that’s it.

There’s a slightly reddish scar where the entry wound used to be. It looks like a months old surgery scar even though it’s only been hours since it happened.

“Sorry,” Peter says, drawing Harley’s attention to his face. “After a few years of this kind of thing I’ve lost all sense of modesty. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Harley says hastily. “It’s still kinda blowing my mind that you heal so quick.”

“Does this hurt?” Dr. Cho prods Peter’s thigh near the entry wound.

“Nah.”

“Here?”

“Nope.”

“Here?”

“Uh, a little, but not really.”

Dr. Cho nods and takes off her gloves. “Alright, I’m giving you the all-clear. Keep resting and eating. That’s the best thing you can do to fuel your healing factor. Come back if there’s any discomfort.”

Peter hikes his pants back up to his hips. “Will do, doc. Thanks for taking care of me.”

Dr. Cho smiles warmly at Peter. “It’s my pleasure. Don’t come back soon, okay?”

Peter smiles innocently. “No promises.”

Dr. Cho shakes her head. “It was nice to meet you, Harley. Try to keep this one out of trouble.”

“Impossible, but I’ll see what I can do.”

She grins and exits the room and the door clicks shut behind her leaving them in a somewhat awkward silence. He hadn’t felt any shame last night, but now in the light of day he’s embarrassed at how clingy he was with someone he hardly knows. He glances at the clock on the wall and wonders what they’re supposed to do now. Should he go to his room? Are they going to keep hanging out? He’s not sure where they stand or where to go from here.

Peter follows his gaze. “Oh man is it that late already? No wonder I’m starving.”

“You eat like a machine,” Harley says.

“My metabolism is a beast and if I don’t feed it, it’ll eat me alive.”

That’s something he can work with at least. If there’s one thing his Mama taught him, it’s how to fill a stomach. “I guess we should go feed it then.”

Harley hops down from the table he’d been perched on and scoops up his laptop and the new Stark phone Tony gave him last night. He notices the stiff way Peter slides off the bed but doesn’t say anything. Then Peter grabs his new phone off the side table and shuffles his feet into his Spider-Man slippers.

“Don’t laugh,” Peter says, catching Harley looking at them. “I know it’s tacky to wear your own merch but Mr. Stark gave them to me as a joke and they’re actually super comfy. I never realized how cold my feet got before.”

Harley chokes down the laugh that wants to bubble up and says, “C’mon Spider Baby. Let’s go feed the beast.”

Peter elbows him in the gut and strides out the door, head held high. Grinning, Harley follows.

Last night he wasn’t sure what his goal was. Now, he thinks maybe Peter’s not so bad. Maybe it’s about time he had a friend in New York and maybe Peter could use one more.

~ **Peter** ~

He eats an unholy amount of scrambled eggs. Harley keeps cooking them so Peter keeps eating them and then suddenly the egg carton is empty and Peter’s going to need a wheelchair if he’s ever going to leave the kitchen table again.

“I can’t believe you ate all of those eggs,” Harley says, tossing the cardboard carton down the recycling chute.

“I can’t believe you gave me that many eggs,” Peter moans.

“You pretty much ate a whole pizza by yourself last night,” Harley reminds him. “I don’t know what’s normal for you. You know you’re supposed to stop when you feel full, right?”

“Normal for me is always hungry. I never feel full.”

“Are you hungry now?” Harley asks, incredulous.

“No, I feel kinda sick actually.”

“Parker, if you puke up the eggs that I just spent the last half-hour making I swear to God I’ll shove you out the window.”

Peter flops his cheek down onto the table and moans wordlessly.

Harley huffs and starts pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Guilt pangs in Peter’s chest as he realizes that he’d probably wanted some of those eggs.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Harley rolls his eyes and gets the milk out of the fridge. “Shut up and focus on keeping those eggs down.”

Peter does as he’s told while Harley sits down across from him with his cereal. Mid-way through the second bowl, Mr. Stark makes an appearance, stumbling toward the coffee maker. He doesn’t acknowledge them until he has a warm mug in his hands.

“Smells like eggs in here.”

“They’re gone,” Harley says and then takes a pointed bite of his cereal.

“I was thinking about making an omelet.”

“We’re out of eggs,” Harley says sharply.

“What? How? I swear we had a full carton yesterday. Did Cap raid our fridge?” The Avengers have their own stock of food in their kitchen one floor down. Peter typically sticks to Mr. Stark’s personal floor for meals because things can get… hectic down there.

Peter’s stomach cramps painfully. He turns his head so he’s face down on the table and groans.

“Oh my God. Peter, did you eat all the eggs?”

Peter moans again. Maybe he can develop a new dialect of only moans and groans and do away with words entirely.

Mr. Stark hesitates and then asks, his tone fearful, “Did you cook them?”

Peter shakes his head no. Across the table, Harley chokes, prompting Peter to look up and catch the horrified look on Mr. Stark’s face.

“I cooked the eggs, Tony,” Harley drawls. “Calm down. Peter didn’t eat a dozen raw eggs like some kind of crazy person. Why would you even think that?”

“You can’t blame me what with all of those half-brained challenges kids keep doing for the Vine or whatever.”

“Vine died like, a long time ago,” Peter tells him with a proper mournful tone.

“Whatever. All I know is kids these days are eating Tide Pods and huffing compressed air. Don’t know why they can’t just get addicted to crack like we did in my day and be done with it.”

“Careful there Tones,” Harley says. “You’re starting to sound like an old man. Also, it was only like a hundred kids that were dumb enough to eat Tide Pods. You old folks just blew it totally out of proportion.”

Peter grins at the expression of utmost offense on Mr. Stark’s face.

“For that, you can go downstairs and steal the Avengers' eggs so I can make an omelet.”

“I’m eating,” Harley says through a mouthful of cereal.

“Chop chop or you lose lab privileges for the day.”

“Oh c’mon Tony. Don’t be a dick.”

“You’ve got five minutes.”

“I’ll do it,” Peter offers while Harley and Mr. Stark stare each other down.

Harley sighs. “You don’t have to, Parker.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him. “Do you think I can’t?”

Harley shoots him a look. “Literally all I said is you don’t have to. Tony’s being a dick to me because I got lippy. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“I’m the one that ate all the eggs.”

“And I’m the one that cooked all the eggs. What’s your point?”

Peter hesitates and then grins. “It sounds like fun.”

“Walking down a floor and getting some eggs from the Avengers sounds like fun,” Harley deadpans.

“Noooo.” Peter’s grin grows. “Sneaking down a floor and stealing some eggs from the Avengers sounds like fun.”

He’s half-expecting Harley to scoff and spout off a sarcastic put-down, but then Harley’s lips twitch into a tiny smile and Peter’s grin widens. “Harley Keener, would you do me the honor of being my Guy in the Chair for this mission?”

Harley wrinkles his nose. “Your what?”

“Guy in the Chair. Like, the Wade to my Kim Possible. Usually that’s Ned’s title so don’t tell him I offered it to you or it’ll hurt his feelings.”

“Right. Don’t tell Ned, a dude I don’t know. Got it.”

“Awesome! This is gonna be so cool! I’m gonna go grab my web-shooters and a comm set. BRB!” Peter sprints off towards his room. As he rounds the corner in the hallway he lightly leaps off the wall to keep his momentum. His leg throbs a little as he does so but not enough to be worrying. Maybe he exaggerated a little earlier when he told Dr. Cho about how good he feels, but what the good doctor doesn’t know won’t get him confined to bed rest for another day. Besides, he does feel better and he definitely feels good enough to be up and walking around. He just skipped past all of the hemming and hawing.

Behind him Mr. Stark shouts, “No parkour in the- Eh, why do I bother.”

In his room, he snatches up his web shooters and claps them onto his wrists. Before they’ve even finished forming he grabs a couple earpieces out of a drawer and kicks off his slippers. He briefly considers changing out of his pajamas, but he has no doubt that F.R.I.D.A.Y. started a five-minute countdown as soon as the words left Mr. Stark’s lips. He’ll just have to make extra sure none of the Avengers catch him.

He hightails it back to the kitchen where Mr. Stark is smirking and Harley is scowling. He doesn’t have time to ask what they were talking about, but he can guess it has something to do with the sudden budding friendship between him and Harley after months of barely concealed animosity.

“Don’t make it weird,” he tells Mr. Stark firmly. Mr. Stark raises his eyebrows, but Peter’s already shoving an earpiece at Harley and fixing the other one into his ear.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. who’s in the common area on the Avengers' floor?”

“Currently Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson, and Ms. Maximoff are in the living room and Vision is in the kitchen.”

All three of them make a face as they remember last time Vision prepared a group meal. Peter was the only one who was able to clean his plate. Even after years of training eating May’s cooking it was a struggle and his stomach had been touchy for the rest of the night.

“Where’s Nat?”

“Ms. Romanoff left yesterday after visiting you in the med bay and hasn’t returned.”

Peter exchanges a glance with Mr. Stark. “Concerning, but good for this mission. Okay, can you set up a live feed of the living room and kitchen?”

“Of course.”

A moment later, the giant TV in the living room flicks on. Peter steps out of the kitchen to get a good look. The screen is split in two with the left side showing Captain America, Falcon, and Scarlet Witch lounging on various pieces of furniture watching what appears to be the news. On the right, Vision stands alone in the kitchen in front of the stove and an open carton of eggs sits on the counter at his elbow.

Peter makes a sound of dissatisfaction and purses his lips. It’s not ideal but he thinks he can still do it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you make sure the elevator stays clear of these floors while I’m in the shaft?”

“Of course, Peter.”

“Oh my God,” Harley mutters.

Peter shoots him a look, but Harley just shakes his head and picks up his cereal to take with him to the living room. “Go do your Spidey thing, you dork. I’ll be your Guy in the- Well, your Guy on the Couch, I guess.”

Peter doesn’t know what to think when he does that. He starts to act like he’s going to freak out but then redirects before Peter can say anything about it. It’s only happened a couple of times but it’s confusing. He opts to ignore it.

“Wish me luck!”

“Good luck. Don’t die,” Harley says in a monotone.

“The Avengers won’t kill me,” Peter says as he jogs for the elevator.

“The elevator shaft might,” Harley mumbles.

Call him petty, but Harley’s startled intake of breath is incredibly satisfying when he jumps down the shaft rather than rappelling as he’d originally intended to. It’s worth the strain on his arms as he catches himself on the wall and spider crawls over to the closed doors leading to the Avenger’s floor. He easily pries them open with his bare hands and crawls inside.

~ **Harley** ~

Tony sips his coffee and taps away on his phone while Harley holds his breath until Peter finally appears on the screen crawling along the ceiling over the heads of the Avengers in the living room. The little punk is lucky he lived so Harley can kill him himself. He knows he jumped like that just to mess with him. He can vividly picture the drop straight down into the darkness swallowing the ground 93 stories below and he shivers. Heights are… not for him to say the least.

Peter doesn’t have any trouble getting into the kitchen. The Avengers remain oblivious, fixated on the TV or in Vision's case, staring intently at a pot of water on the stove. As far as Harley can tell he’s just trying to boil some eggs and is taking the process way too seriously. Or, considering his previous cooking attempts, just the right amount of seriousness.

Peter waits on the ceiling just above Vision for an agonizing 30 seconds before something draws Vision’s attention towards the doorway. Quick as lightning, Peter webs up the entire carton of eggs just as Harley catches movement from the living room.

“Wanda incoming. Three seconds,” he guesstimates.

Peter scurries across the ceiling and down the wall behind Vision’s back and manages to duck under the bar counter just as Wanda appears in the doorway. Harley doesn’t have audio, but he can see Wanda say something to Vision who then smiles and says something back as Wanda drapes her arms around his waist. Judging by the pinched look on Peter’s face, it’s something he’s better off not hearing.

He can’t help snickering a little, prompting Tony to look up from his phone and smirk at Peter’s predicament.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. how much time do we have?” Harley asks.

“57 seconds.”

Shit.

Peter tenses like he’s getting ready to bolt.

“Hold,” Harley says, eying the pot on the stove. Peter freezes. “Pot’s about to boil over.” Viz and Wanda are full-on making out now and not paying any attention to it. “On my signal.”

Harley divides his attention between the mushroom of foam building up in the pot and the Avengers in the other room. When the surface tension of the foam finally breaks and it spills over the sides of the pot Wanda and Vision jump and spring towards the stove.

Peter tenses.

“Hold,” Harley repeats, watching Sam and Steve turn towards the commotion.

Steve says something towards the kitchen and Wanda calls back. Steve and Sam trade glances and shake their heads before going back to watching the news and in the kitchen Wanda and Vision are still focused on the stove and haven’t yet noticed the missing eggs.

“Now.”

Peter springs to his feet and slips out of the room, through the living room, and out of Harley’s sight, unnoticed by Earth’s mightiest heroes. Harley’s grinning when Peter rolls out of the elevator shaft, panting and calls time.

“Did we make it?” Peter asks.

“You had six seconds remaining,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says from above. “Good job.”

Peter beams at him and hoists the eggs into the air victoriously. “We did it!” And then he’s crushing Harley against his chest in a one-armed hug and bouncing up and down. He pulls away, leaving Harley feeling winded.

Peter points the eggs at him and says, “You were a really good Guy on the Couch. You sure you haven’t done that before?”

“I mean, I play video games.”

Peter nods. “Fair.”

“Yeah, yeah go Team Intern,” Tony interrupts. “Now gimme gimme and get out of my hair. Be in the lab in 20.”

Peter rolls his eyes and hands Tony the eggs. “You’re welcome.”

Tony ruffles his hair before Peter can duck away. “Thanks, Spider-Kid. Oh and maybe stay clear of Viz today. He’s looking a tad frustrated.”

Harley looks back at the TV and sees Vision tearing apart the kitchen trying to find the eggs while Wanda and Steve watch with concern. He keeps gesturing to the spot on the counter where he’d left them.

“Aw now I feel bad,” Peter says, then frowns. “Is that us on the news?”

Harley swivels around to face the TV and sees a still image of him and Peter tied to their chairs on the Avengers’ TV. Harley looks scared and Peter looks annoyed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you-,”

“No,” Tony interrupts Peter. “No news today. Nobody needs that. You guys are fine and the bad guys got put in jail. Thanks to those idiots recording the whole thing, you won't even need to testify against them. There’s no need to relive it.”

Harley’s not sure if Tony means for him or for them, but either way, he agrees. The sooner he can put that whole experience behind him and forget it ever happened, the better. Peter looks pissed off and backs down without an argument, but if Harley was a betting man he’d wager he’s going to check the news as soon as Tony isn’t hovering.

Harley nudges him with his elbow. “C’mon let’s go get changed. Can’t have a lab day in your PJs.”

~ **Peter** ~

They spend nearly the entire day in the lab tinkering. Peter shows off his web shooters and explains how they work and Harley responds with interest and tries them out, coating the far wall of the lab with sticky webbing that hangs around for two hours much to Mr. Stark’s displeasure. Then they start to tinker with various gadgets and gizmos that Mr. Stark dumps on their table to see if they can improve them beyond what his employees down in R&D have come up with.

It’s… good. They’ve never really worked together in the lab before. They’re almost always in the lab at the same time (or at least Harley always seems to be there when Peter’s there), but they normally go out of their way to avoid each other and never work on the same project at the same time.

The day goes by fast. They take a break at some point to scarf down some takeout that someone ordered in and then they go right back to it. Before Peter knows it, his alarm is going off warning him that he’s approaching curfew and needs to get back to Queens. He pouts at his phone and looks longingly at the partially assembled mess of wires and metal on the workbench.

“Time to go back to being a real boy?” Harley asks, barely bothering to look up from where he’s very carefully soldering two wires together. It’s just the two of them in the lab. Mr. Stark got pulled away awhile ago by some emergency or another and hasn’t come back yet.

Peter sighs. “Finals are next week so May’s been cracking down on how late I’m allowed to be out.”

Harley smirks. “I remember when I was your age,” he says in an imperial tone.

Peter snorts and tosses an oily rag at his face. It hits him in the nose and flops down onto his soldering gun where it instantly ignites.

“Shit!” Harley yanks his hands out from under the rag and stumbles back a step.

“Oh my God!” Peter panics, searching and finding only more oily rags and nothing to put out the fire. “Dum-E!”

“Me? You’re the one who-,”

“What? No, no! Dum-E!”

Understanding alights on Harley’s face as Dum-E the robot wheels around the workbench, fire extinguisher held aloft. He douses the fire expertly. And then douses Harley and Peter for good measure.

“No, wait!” Peter flinches, hands covering his face.

“We’re not on fire, you idiot!” Harley snaps, arms over his head protectively.

Dum-E finally ceases fire and rolls away back to his corner, beeping in a way that somehow projects pride at a job well done. As the cloud of carbon dioxide disperses, Peter and Harley trade looks, unharmed but cold and slightly damp.

“Uh, oops,” Peter says. He grins bashfully and watches anxiously to see how Harley responds. So far he’s just standing there, alternating between staring at Peter and the charred rag. “My bad. Sorry. I was uh- yep. Not my best moment. Here, let me…”

Peter snatches up the burnt rag and throws it away. Then, wringing his hands, he turns back to Harley and tries to tell if he’s mad. Harley’s lips twitch and then he steps away and picks up an orange cone from the floor and deposits it on Peter’s head.

With a straight face, he says, “You’re a hazard, Harry.”

Relief floods Peter even as he scoffs and stands up straighter, owning the cone. “That meme is so old. You should be ashamed.”

Harley rolls his eyes and tweaks the cone. “Who cares. You caught the reference, didn’t you? Besides,” he smirks and glances significantly up at the cone, “if the crown fits…”

Peter squawks and lurches over to snatch up Dum-E’s dunce cap from a table by the wall, but Harley dodges before Peter can crown him with it and leads him on a chase around the lab.

“Hold still!” Peter exclaims, struggling to keep his cone atop his head while he dodges around the end of a workbench to cut off Harley’s escape.

“C’mon Spider-Man,” Harley taunts, ducking under the table and skipping over to the next row of workbenches. “You’re gonna have to earn it.” He grins viciously.

Peter narrows his eyes at the challenge and after that, it’s all over relatively quickly. With one hand on his cone crown, Peter leaps up onto a workbench and runs atop the entire row before he leaps, flips once, and lands lightly, trapping Harley in the corner. With a wide grin he plops the dunce cap on Harley’s head and experiences a brief moment of triumph before Harley whips it off his head and slides it over the top of Peter’s cone with a smirk.

“Uh, what is this?” Mr. Stark says from the doorway.

Peter startles so badly that the cones slip and clatter to the floor as he spins around. Mr. Stark’s eyebrows are way up high on his forehead and he looks like he’s struggling with whether to ask more questions or pretend like nothing weird is happening.

“Oh? Haven’t you heard?” Peter hears his mouth ask.

Harley sputters into a laughing fit, bumping Peter’s shoulder with his own as he hunches in on himself. Peter, realizing how close they’d been standing with Harley trapped in the corner, feels his cheeks heat up. Oh God. It’s a good thing he had that cone on his head or Mr. Stark might have jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Aiming for casual, he takes a large step away from Harley and shoves his hands in his pockets.

Mr. Stark pinches the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Letting you two meet was a mistake.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice asks, “Should I call Ms. Parker, boss?”

“No!” Peter and Mr. Stark shout in unison.

“Omigod I’m so late!” Peter says, using his hand to lever himself over a row of workbenches as he scrambles to grab his backpack and sprawled collection of textbooks and homework. “Don’t call Aunt May, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! I’m going, I’m going!”

He shovels his things into his bag and hikes it up onto his shoulder, nearly running for the door. “Bye Mr. Stark!” He doubles back for his phone and waves at Harley. “See you on Friday! Don’t work on our thing without me.”

“Your thing?” Mr. Stark asks, wrinkling his nose.

Peter and Harley ignore him.

“I won’t,” Harley assures him, hands in his pockets as he leans against a shelving unit. “Try not to get kidnapped on your way home.”

Peter snorts, pausing in the doorway. “Unlikely since I’ll be web-slinging.”

Harley raises an eyebrow. “Like that?” He looks pointedly at Peter’s hoodie and jeans.

“Nah I’ll change on the way to the roof.”

“…in the elevator?”

Peter shrugs. “Yeah.”

“What if someone gets in while you’re between outfits?”

Peter adjusts his backpack to sit more securely on his shoulder. “It’s only happened once so far and Mr. Wilson never brings it up. As long as it’s not Captain Rogers or Thor I think I’ll be able to emotionally recover.”

Harley snorts. “Okay then. As long as you’ve accepted the risks.”

“I have,” Peter says gravely and then grins. “See you Friday. Don’t work on it without me!”

Harley rolls his eyes. “I said I won’t. Now get out of here before your aunt grounds you.”

“Byeee~,” Peter calls over his shoulder one last time and he heads for the elevator. The doors to the lab slide shut behind him and he hears Mr. Stark’s voice, slightly muffled.

“That was nauseating.”

“Can it, old man. Don’t make me quote your wedding vows back at you.”

“I should’ve left you in Tennessee.”

“That only works once. You’re stuck with me now.”

With an unconscious, happy smile Peter ducks into the elevator and begins to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit my dudes it's Wednesday. I hope you're all having a great time and I'll see you same time next week! Leave a comment!


	4. Keep your luck. I don’t need it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, waiting until Wednesday to put up chapters is one of the hardest things I've ever made myself do. But it's Wednesday friends! We made it! Enjoy!

~ **Harley** ~

“Did you see this?”

Harley waves his phone in front of Tony’s face, breaking his concentration on the blown-up hologram he’d been absorbed in examining. Tony flinches back, eyes unfocused as he takes in the headline in all capital letters: ‘SPIDER-MAN ENDANGERS CIVILIANS: Local Menace Engages Armed Robber in Crowded Bank’.

“That the Bugle?” He asks. “Pepper says I’m not allowed to read their trash anymore. Bad for my health.” He glares at the article.

“They talk so much shit about Spider-Man,” Harley complains, scrolling through his phone with a scowl. “They don’t give a fuck that he’s helping people and putting away bad guys. They go out of their way to look at everything from the worst angle. All the other news sites have eye witness statements saying that Spidey did a great job de-escalating the situation and then removing the guns before moving in on the robbers, but the Bugle deliberately left all that out just so they could bitch about Spider-Man. It’s bullshit!”

Tony frowns. “Hence, why I’m not allowed to read their trash anymore.”

“You should just buy them and then post nothing but Spider-Man positivity articles,” Harley grumbles.

Tony smirks. “I tried. Jameson won’t sell. Fucker.”

Harley makes a dissatisfied sound in the back of his throat and turns away to leave the lab. He’s got some irate emails to type up, he thinks.

“Why do you care all of the sudden anyway?” Tony asks nonchalantly, squinting at his hologram again.

Harley eyes him with distrust. “I’ve always liked Spider-Man.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, kid. Everyone likes Spider-Man.”

“Not the Bugle.”

Tony rolls his eyes and gives up feigning interest in work. He turns and faces Harley, leaning back against his workbench and crossing his arms over his chest. “Obviously Jameson is an outlier. But you didn’t answer my question. Why are you suddenly invested in how the news reports on Spider-Man?”

Harley shoots Tony a dirty look, seeing his poorly hidden amusement. “You know why.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it so I can officially induct you into the Peter Parker Babysitters Club.”

“I’m not gonna be his babysitter." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I just… It’s different knowing who’s under the mask. Knowing a high schooler is under the mask.”

“You’re not even a full year older than him,” Tony points out.

“Yeah, exactly!” Harley says, gesturing widely. “I can’t imagine deciding to just… go out there and go head to head with armed criminals. Not now and not when I was 15.”

He’d done the math and had been a little nauseated imagining little sophomore Peter Parker donning a homemade mask and going head-to-head with armed and dangerous criminals.

“But you aren’t enhanced,” Tony points out.

“So? You knew me when I was 15. D’you think if I woke up one day with super-strength I’d’ve started protecting Rose Hill from criminals?”

Smirking, Tony says, “To be fair, Rose Hill’s population of criminals isn’t exactly at the same level as New York.”

“That’s not what I- Ugh! You’re such an ass. _My point_ is that I’d have thrown E.J. in a dumpster and kicked Keaton’s ass and called it a day. I’d think it was cool that I could just pick up an engine and carry it across the room if I wanted to, but it wouldn’t have even entered my mind that I’d have a responsibility to the world.”

Growing up, he definitely fantasized about being Iron Man, especially after the Mandarin incident. But when he thought of it, he thought of it more along the lines of training under Tony and then becoming the next Iron Man as an adult. There’s a big difference between blowing up aliens with a repulsor blast while encased in metal and getting up close and personal to people with guns with only a thin layer of fabric to protect you.

Tony smirks like Harley just said exactly what he’d been waiting for. “So this is a Peter thing, more than it’s a Spider-Man thing.”

“No,” Harley says, defensive. Then he sighs and crosses his arms. “Maybe. Don’t read into it.” He levels a hard look at Tony. “I’m just wrapping my head around the thing still is all. I’m not going to go all overprotective on him like the rest of you have. I just… I just gotta learn to trust him when he says he can handle it.”

Tony shakes his head. “Doesn’t work. He doesn’t ask for help until he’s up to his eyeballs in shit creek. Sometimes not even then.”

“Well then I’ll teach him that he can come to me for help and that when he does I’m not going to treat him like some dumb irresponsible kid,” Harley snaps.

“Good fucking luck." Tony points a finger at him. "I mean that. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

Tony shakes his head again and reaches for his hologram as Harley turns on his heel and heads for the door. “Keep your luck. I don’t need it.”

“Hey, kid.” Harley stops and looks over his shoulder shooting Tony his best put upon, defiant teenager expression. Tony doesn’t even look over to experience the expression in its full glory. “I’m glad you two are finally getting along. It took you long enough.”

“He’s not so bad,” Harley allows grudgingly. There’s nothing he hates more than feeding Tony’s ego by saying things like, ‘ _You were right_.’

Tony smirks and looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? And he didn’t even try.”

Harley scowls and stalks off without denying it. The doors of the lab whoosh open.

“Don’t feel bad about it! It already happened to the best of us!” Tony calls after him, chuckling to himself.

Yeah. There’s nothing Harley hates more than proving Tony right.

~*~

Later that week, Spider-Man is on the news. Live. The newscasters talk over the aerial footage shot from the news station’s helicopter as Spider-Man swings between buildings, chasing down a speeding pickup truck. Harley tuned them out a long time ago.

Blah blah attempted kidnapping blah blah police chase blah blah _Spider-Man in pursuit_.

Instead, he watches, heart in his throat as Peter pushes himself faster and faster, building momentum and expertly maneuvering around corners and over traffic lights until finally, he swings down into the bed of the truck. A week ago, Harley would have been giddy getting to see the hero in action. Now, he holds his breath as Peter drops to his belly and a second later the back window shatters under a spray of bullets.

Harley holds his phone closer to his face, not wanting to miss a single detail as Peter shoots a web into the cab of the truck and with a yank, a rifle spills out into the bed with him. Did any of those bullets find their mark? Peter webs down the gun and then almost falls out as the truck suddenly takes a left turn way too fast. Harley thinks only Peter’s stickiness keeps him from tumbling straight to the pavement.

The truck lurches, slamming the brakes, and Peter goes flying towards the cab. Harley winces when Peter’s face smashes into the roof, but Peter doesn’t pause. He flips into the cab and is out of sight for seven long seconds as the truck swerves all over the road. Finally, it comes to a screeching stop dead center in the street and Spider-Man climbs out of the driver-side door. The camera zooms in as he seemingly pats the unseen driver on the head, his mask moving like he’s chatting happily as he does.

Then Spider-Man looks straight into the camera and waves like a total dork before shooting a web and hauling himself up onto a low roof. The camera follows him as he leaps from building to building, but then he webs himself around a skyscraper and by the time the helicopter maneuvers around it, he’s gone.

Harley releases a breath and swipes a shaky hand down his face before closing the news app.

He’s glad he’s alone in his room and not in the living room watching with Tony. Harley set up an alert on his phone to notify him whenever Spider-Man made the news and apparently Tony has F.R.I.D.A.Y. doing the same thing. Harley was just leaving the room when F.R.I.D.A.Y. made the announcement that Spider-Man was live on TV and then a few seconds later his phone pinged and he sneaked off to his room to watch in private.

He stares down at his phone blankly, unsure how to proceed. He meant what he said to Tony before. He’s gonna figure out a way to be there for Peter without smothering him like everyone else does. If they’re going to be friends then he’s got to figure out how to handle the superhero aspects of his life without freaking out. It’s just gonna be a bit tricky and he’ll have to figure out how to be cool with a lot of fucked up shit really fast, but hell. He’s always been a damn fine actor.

6:58pm Harley  
 _Dude that was sick_

6:58pm Harley  
 _Saw the whole thing on the news_

He makes sure the vibration is on and putters around his room trying to keep himself from checking his phone every two seconds. It doesn’t take too long for Peter to respond.

7:04pm Parker  
 _Yeah? Did they get my good side?_

Harley snorts and texts back.

7:04pm Harley  
 _You have a good side??_

7:06pm Parker  
 _Haha_

Harley frowns and drums his fingers on his thigh thoughtfully. With a huff, he decides to just go for it.

7:07pm Harley  
 _How’s ur nose? Saw you biff it on the truck_

He opens Twitter and scrolls without really taking anything in until another text finally comes through.

7:10pm Parker  
 _Good. Got a cut on my head tho. It won’t stay glued >:-[_

Harley’s eye twitches and he pulls up Google for a quick search on the advisability of super gluing head wounds.

7:12pm Harley  
 _Google says it doesn’t work on mobile skin like the face_

7:12pm Harley  
 _In other news mobile skin is a terrifying concept_

7:13pm Parker  
 _Oh :-(_

7:13pm Parker  
 _All skin is mobile if you think about it_

7:13pm Harley  
 _BLOCKED_

7:14pm Harley  
 _You want me to sneak down into the med bay for those little tapey things?_

7:17pm Parker  
 _Nah don’t want you to get in trouble_

7:17pm Harley  
 _You think I’m gonna get caught???_

Despite himself, Harley’s a little offended. What’s so hard about taking the elevator down a few floors and grabbing medical supplies? Does Peter think that because Harley can’t crawl on the ceiling that he can’t do a little sneaking? Does he think he can’t lie? Screw him.

7:17pm Harley  
 _Fuck you I’m gonna get em whether you want em or not_

7:18pm Parker  
 _Dude that’s not what I meant_

7:18pm Harley  
 _Whatever_

7:18 Parker  
 _Seriously tho you don’t have to_

7:19pm Harley  
 _Can’t talk. On a stealth mission_

Harley puts his phone on silent and stuffs it in his pocket. Stupid superheroes. Always think they gotta protect everyone. Besides, even if he does get caught what’s the worst that could happen? He gets his hand slapped by Tony? Would Tony even care? Or would he be happy that Harley’s taking care of Peter?

Or maybe Tony’ll call Peter and hound him about not coming in to be treated in the first place.

There’s enough of a chance of that happening that Harley figures he should play it safe and not get caught. Either way, it’s a low risk, high reward situation and he’s willing to take full advantage of it. He slips into his shoes and out into the hall. He can hear the news playing in the living room, no longer talking about Spider-Man. Instead, he hears something about Oscorp doing some experimental trials on a new drug. Bor- _ing_.

Hands in his pockets, he strolls to the elevator.

“Hey bud, there’s chinese in the kitchen,” Tony calls from the living room. Harley stops and considers. With a shrug, he changes course and cuts through the living room and into the kitchen where he grabs a pint of sesame chicken and a fork and stuffs an egg roll in his mouth.

“Fanks,” he says, mouth full as he re-enters the living room. “Gon’ ‘oo a lab.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tony says without turning away from the Starkpad in his lap. “Don’t set anything on fire this time.”

Harley chews furiously and then swallows. “That was Peter’s fault,” he chokes.

Tony hums. “Whatever. Go forth, my protege.” He waves his hand dismissively without looking. “Discover. Build. Create. All that.”

Harley scowls at him petulantly and ducks into the kitchen to grab two more boxes and another fork, just in case. He crams another egg roll into his mouth and heads for the elevator. Tony doesn’t look up or ask questions and Harley steps into the elevator and is whisked down several dozen floors.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Can you not tell Tony I’m going to the med bay? I don’t want him to give Peter a hard time for getting a little bit hurt.”

“Sure thing, Harley,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says and then the elevator opens with a small ding.

“You’re the best.”

Harley steps out into the dimly lit med bay. They usually only keep it staffed during the workday in case there’s an accident in one of the many R&D labs. Then there’s the on-call team who get called in whenever the Avengers go out on a local mission, just in case one of them gets hurt. At 7:30pm on an average Wednesday? It’s deserted.

The elevator doors close behind him as he leisurely strolls across the wide-open room, footsteps echoing. It’s like a waiting room, but sleek and elegant in a way that hospitals could never. Frankly, he’s starting to feel pretty insulted that Peter doubted him. So far it’s been a walk in the park. He strolls past the reception desk and pushes the door to get to the exam rooms beyond. It doesn’t budge. He sighs and sets two of his takeout boxes on the reception desk and opens the sesame chicken. He forks up a piece and pops it in his mouth.

“Hey Fri, how come I can’t get in?”

“The door is locked,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says.

Harley rolls his eyes. Sometimes he questions Tony’s judgment in creating such a sassy A.I. “No shit. How come it’s locked?”

“The med bay closed for the day at 6pm. The doors lock at that time.”

“What if it’s an emergency?” Harley asks, annoyed. “What if Peter comes back all bloodied up and I need to get him band-aids or whatever?”

“There’s an emergency override protocol.”

Harley perks up. “Yeah? How’s that work? Is it like an activation phrase or-?”

“I measure your heart rate and cortisol levels and if they exceed a predetermined amount then I have the authority to unlock the doors.”

Harley grins. “Neat. I can work with that.”

He sets aside his sesame chicken and wipes his hands on his pants before pulling out his phone. He pauses. He has several unread messages from Peter. He considers ignoring them until he’s done with his self-imposed mission, but a spike of anxiety has him opening up his messaging app just in case it’s important.

7:19 Parker  
 _Ohmygod ur the worst_

7:22 Parker  
 _Hello? U weren’t serious right???_

7:25 Parker  
 _Seriously I’m fine. I really don’t want u to get in trouble bc of me_

7:26 Parker  
 _I can’t believe you_

7:26 Parker  
 _If you get caught I absolve myself of all responsibility. Let the record show I told u not to_

7:30 Parker  
 _How long does it take to rob a building ur already in? Shouldn’t you be done by now??? U got caught didn’t u_

7:31 Parker  
 _Ok ok I’m like 5min away from the tower I’ll get them myself_

7:31 Parker  
 _Abiet missuib_

7:32 Parker  
 _Yikes note to self don’t text n swing. *Abort mission_

7:32 Parker  
 _If ur already in there u shud grab some ace or an ankle brace or sumthin_

7:32 Parker  
 _For a friend_

Harley’s eye twitches. For fuck’s sake, Parker. He checks the time as a new text comes through.

7:35 Parker  
 _Here_

Harley looks towards the elevator sitting silent and still.

“Hey Fri, where’s Peter?”

“He’s currently on the fifth floor.”

Harley frowns. The med bay is on the 40th floor, about mid-way up the tower to make it more accessible to all areas.

“What’s he doing down there?” Harley mutters to himself.

“He’s climbing,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Is he _outside?_ ”

“Yes. I estimate it will take him about two minutes to reach this floor at his current speed.”

Harley shakes his head. Time to get this show on the road then. He closes his messaging app without bothering to respond and opens up YouTube. He types in “Crazy heights compilation” and clicks the first video. It gets his heart rate up in no time. He doesn’t even make it a minute into the video (staring down the sides of cliffs and over the edges of impossibly tall buildings and structures) before he has to shut it off.

Heart pounding, he steps up to the door and pushes. This time it opens easily. The main lights are off, but the emergency lights dotted along the tops of the walls give him enough light to easily see down the long hallway. He’s not sure if the door will stay unlocked once it shuts so he slips off one shoe and wedges it under the door to prop it open and then hobbles down the hall until he finds a storage closet. It’s dark in the closet so he pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight.

He finds all kinds of medical supplies. The ACE bandages are plentiful and easy to spot. He grabs a few rolls and stuffs them in his pockets. The little tapey things are harder to find. After some poking around he finally figures out he’d dismissed them because he thought they were band-aids. ‘ _Suture Strip_ ,’ reads the packet. Harley reaches past the small pile of packets and grabs the full box instead. He’s got a feeling they’ll need them eventually and it makes more sense to keep a stockpile than to sneak in here every time Peter gets a cut. Target acquired, he takes another look in the closet for anything that might come in handy and stuffs as much in his pockets as he can fit.

Can Spider-Man get infections? _Better safe than sorry_ , he decides with a shrug and grabs a million little antiseptic wipes. He doesn’t see any braces. They’ve gotta have them somewhere but he wouldn’t know where to look to find any. Hopefully, the ACE bandages will work for whatever Peter did to his ankle.

Something wet drips onto the back of his hand.

Harley freezes in place as every horror movie he’s ever seen pops into his head unbidden. _Drool or blood? Drool or blood? Drool or blood?_ He’s not sure which would be worse. Drool probably, since that would drastically lower the chances of whatever’s on the ceiling being human.

Slowly, he shines his flashlight at the wet spot. Bright red blood slides over his skin and drips to the floor.

His heart rate triples. _Run run run run run run run. Don’t look up!_

He looks up.

“Boo!”

Harley screams.

~ **Peter** ~

Cackling, Peter barely manages to detach from the ceiling without falling on his face. Instead, he falls on his butt, laughing so hard he can’t stand. His sprained ankle might have something to do with it too, but mostly it’s the laughing.

“Your face! Ohmygod it was-,” Peter dissolves into laughter once more, unable to form the words to properly mock Harley. He pulls off his mask so he can breathe and wipes at the blood threatening to drip into his eye.

Harley, having fallen back into the supply closet while he screamed bloody murder, is also sitting. His eyes are closed and his hand is pressed to his chest as he breathes deeply.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Parker.”

Peter gasps, delighted. “Oh my God your accent just got like 50% more southern. That’s soooo cute.”

“I fuckin’ hate you so much.”

Peter laughs. “Aww c’mon Harles.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“It was just a little prank. Don’t they do pranks in Tennessee?”

“I’ll murder you.”

Peter rolls his eyes, grinning and hauls himself up onto his feet. He holds his weight on his good leg and shuffles over to where Harley’s sitting in the closet and offers a hand to help him stand up.

Harley swats it away and clambers to his feet on his own, grumbling under his breath as he stalks off towards the waiting area. Of course, Peter can make out every word as he limps behind him.

“Goddamn city folk. Trying to do somethin’ nice ‘n they gotta be dicks ‘bout it. Ungrateful bastard piece a shit. Last time I try to help. Mother fuck.”

Peter struggles to keep his grin from turning into another giggle fest. Harley is normally so stoic and unaffected that Peter wasn’t sure if he’d react beyond a raised eyebrow. This is so so worth it.

Harley stomps up to the door and removes a shoe from under it. For the first time, Peter realizes he’s only wearing one. Peter catches the door before it can close and holds it open while Harley puts his shoe back on.

He sniffs. “Is it just me or does it smell like chinese food in here?”

Harley shoots him a withering glare and stalks past him over to the reception desk.

“No, really,” Peter says, letting the door fall shut behind him as he trails after Harley. “It’s not your feet. I swear I smell- Oh.” Peter cuts himself off as he spots the three white containers sitting on the reception desk accompanied by two forks.

“Go fuck yourself,” Harley says and puts one fork in his already bulging pocket (how much stuff did he take?!) and picks up the other and starts eating sesame chicken. Peter’s stomach growls audibly and Harley grins.

“Mmmm wow this is soooo gooooood.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. Did you get the ACE? My ankle- I mean, my friend’s ankle is really hurting.”

“I don’t remember. I can check when I’m done eating this amazing food all by myself because I don’t have any friends to share it with. I wonder what else I’ve got.”

“Seriously? Petty isn’t a good look on you.”

“It isn’t? Well now that’s a damn shame.” Harley opens up a box and lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh boy! Beef and Broccoli. I know someone who _loves_ beef and broccoli. Too bad he likes pranks more than friendship. I hope he likes my prank. Let’s see what’s in box number three.”

“This isn’t even a prank. This is just you being a dick,” Peter points out, gazing longingly at the beef and broccoli as his empty stomach lets out another grumble.

“Is it? _Is it, Peter?_ Is it just being a dick? Is that what pranks are? Oh score! Got me some cashew chicken!”

Peter crosses his arms and glowers. “Are you really not gonna share? There’s no way you can eat all of that by yourself.”

“Don’t challenge me. I can do anything I set my mind to,” Harley says, pointing his fork at Peter as he talks through a mouthful of chicken.

“Oh really? I’d like to see you walk up the wall then.”

Harley shoves a large forkful of the beef and broccoli into his mouth and moans. “Mmmm so good.”

“Oh c’mon! You’ve made your point. Just gimme the other fork.”

Harley quirks an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just take it, spider boy?”

“You want me to? I could,” Peter says, sizing up Harley nonchalantly. His injuries will slow him down but bruised ribs and sprained ankle or no, Peter can definitely outmaneuver him. Spidey senses and literal sticky fingers are helpful like that.

“You could try,” Harley says, a challenge in his eyes as he stabs his fork into the beef and broccoli and sets it aside.

Peter grins. “You’re on.”

Harley lasts longer than Peter expects. He’s definitely got a little fighting experience. Enough to know how to use Peter’s injury against him and keep him off balance. Still, Peter manages to steal the fork out of his pocket in under two minutes and they only break one chair while running around the waiting area and leaping over furniture. He puts a Spidey note of apology on the busted chair and considers it a win.

Judging by the satisfied grin on his face, Harley thinks it’s a win too. That might be because he managed to land a couple of hits on Peter despite Peter only letting him hit him once.

They settle on the floor, Peter’s ankle elevated and wrapped to the best of their ability, and devour the chinese food. Harley tapes up the cut on Peter’s forehead using the suture strips and only wastes four of them on failed attempts. He nods approvingly at the end result and Peter crinkles his nose at him when he tells him not to pick at them and fuck up his hard work.

When Harley turns out his pockets and Peter sees just how much stuff he took he insists on writing another note from Spider-Man thanking the staff for the supplies and telling them to bill Mr. Stark.

This confuses Harley.

“It’s Tony’s company. Why’s it matter if we take stuff? It’s all on his bill anyway, right?” he says, stacking the empty take out containers. He tosses them in the trash and sits down next to Peter.

“I mean, technically, I guess,” Peter says, flat on his back, his belly full as he stares up at the distant ceiling. “But it’s still a company. People take inventory and when stuff’s missing the staff might get in trouble for it. I don’t want anyone to be accused of stealing because of me.”

“City life’s so weird,” Harley complains, laying down and folding his arms behind his head.

Peter turns to grin at him. “That’s not the city. That’s the capitalism.”

Harley snorts. “Same difference.”

When 8:30 rolls around, Harley helps Peter to his feet and they take the elevator down to the garage where Peter can slip out without setting off any alarms or getting caught by Mr. Stark.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

Peter sighs. It’s the third time Harley’s asked. “Seriously, I’m okay. Swinging is pretty easy on the ankles.”

“I’m not worried about the swinging,” Harley argues. “It’s the landing.”

“Aww you’re worried. That’s so sweet,” Peter teases with a mocking grin.

Harley rolls his eyes. “Fine, do what you want. You’re the dumbass that has to walk on it all day at school tomorrow.”

“It’ll be fine by morning,” Peter insists. Probably. He hasn’t really scienced out his healing factor yet. He’ll find time… eventually.

Harley looks skeptical. “I sprained my ankle once and it took a whole year before it felt right again and it still hurts when I swim or the weather gets cold and rainy. That’s gotta be at least a two-day heal for you.”

That gives Peter some pause. He has heard that sprained ankles can take forever to heal and that sometimes it’s faster if it breaks outright. Harley must notice his hesitation because he opens the door to a red sports car and looks at Peter expectantly.

“Not that one,” Peter says quickly, looking around for a more inconspicuous option, ignoring Harley’s offended expression.

There’s a silver four-door something or other that looks like it probably costs more than Peter’s entire apartment building, but at least it’s not _red_. Harley sees him eying it and makes his way over. Peter limps after him.

“There’s no way Mr. Stark is gonna let you drive one of his cars,” Peter says as Harley opens the driver door.

Harley raises an eyebrow. “Let? I wasn’t plannin’ on askin’, sweetheart. You know he keeps the key fobs in the glove boxes right?”

Peter makes a face but climbs into the passenger seat. It’s weird sitting in the front. He only ever sits in the front when May or Mr. Stark drive him places and that’s not often. Him and May rarely take the car anywhere and any other time he needs to get somewhere like a normal person (not a spider-person) he’s in an Uber or a cab or Happy is driving and he sits in the back. The front is _weird_. There’s so many windows.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Peter asks, buckling his seatbelt.

Harley looks the most offended Peter has ever seen him. “Of course I can fucking drive. I’ve been driving since I was ten.”

“That seems… young,” Peter says, blinking at Harley in surprise. Here in New York, there are plenty of people who have never driven and never plan to learn, but Harley’s taking Peter’s simple question as a grave insult. Also, ten? Ten??? Call him a city boy all you want but that seems inadvisable.

Harley shoots him a flat look. “Really?” He drawls, letting his accent out to play. “Are you, Spider-Man, really going to bring out the ‘too young’ card?”

Peter slouches in his seat. “Just take me home before I change my mind.”

Harley grumbles to himself as he pushes the button to start the car. It rumbles to life and Harley buckles himself in.

“Do I even know how to drive,” Harley mutters, barely audible. “City folk, I swear to God. ‘Course I know how to fuckin’ drive. Essential life skill, that is.”

Peter rolls his eyes and presses his cheek against the window. It’s cool on his skin.

“Gross,” Harley says at normal volume. “Get your face off the window.”

“Feels good,” Peter says without moving.

Harley shifts into gear and pulls forward, smoothly gliding along on the polished concrete past the many other flashy cars hidden away under the tower. They start up a long spiraling ramp that will take them up three stories to street level.

“It’s _gross_. There’s gonna be a big ‘ole face smear on there now.”

“Something for you to remember me by on your lonely trip back.”

“Oh please. It’ll be so peaceful without your chattering. You’re gonna crack your head once we get on the city streets,” Harley warns like Peter’s never experienced vehicular transportation before.

“Don’t worry about it, _mom_ ,” Peter snarks.

Harley jerks the wheel to the right, causing Peter’s head to smack lightly into the window.

Peter sits up and sighs. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

Peter snorts. “Not even a little.”

~*~

They make it to Peter’s apartment without incident and Peter has to admit (although only to himself) that Harley’s a pretty good driver. They stop at the curb and Harley leaves the car running while Peter unbuckles.

“Uh, d’you want this back?” Peter picks at the front of the hoodie he’s wearing over his suit. Harley’s hoodie.

Harley shoots him a look like he’s an idiot. “The whole point is to cover your suit so nobody sees _Spider-Man_ walking into your apartment. Just bring it back on Friday.”

“Oh right. Yeah, I will.” Peter makes a mental note, but it’s more likely that he’ll forget by then. Besides, it _is_ a comfy sweater. Smells good too.

“Tell May I say hi.”

“Yeah okay. You’re not gonna tell Mr. Stark I was over, right?”

Harley just gives him a look that Peter is somehow able to interpret as ‘Do you think I’m fucking stupid?’ which, yeah okay. Maybe he deserves that.

“How come you call him ‘Mr. Stark’, anyway?” Harley asks. “It’s weirdly formal.”

“It’d be weird to call him anything else,” Peter counters.

“ _Why_ though?” Harley pushes. “If I didn’t see how close you two are with my own eyes I’d think you’re trying to keep your distance or something. It’s like you’re setting a boundary.”

“It’s… I’m being respectful,” Peter sputters.

Harley looks skeptical. Peter sighs.

“It’s like… Like, what do you call your mom?”

“Uh, ma? Mama. Mom?” Harley says, nonplussed.

“Exactly! It’d be rude to call her by her first name. Disrespectful. It’s the same thing,” Peter says with finality.

Harley looks at Peter for a long moment before cracking a smile and shaking his head. “Sure. Same thing.”

When Peter gets inside, May is waiting. She fawns over his limp and the sutures on his face, but when he tells her Harley helped him she gets a quiet, contemplative look on her face and lets him beg off dinner (“Harley shared his chinese with me. Honest, I’m stuffed!”) and he’s able to slink off to his room with minimal fuss. As he closes the door he hears her murmur something about losing a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a comment! Thank you for all the kudos and comments so far! Love you guys!!!


	5. It’s called strategy, Spider Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you guys heeded the three different fluff related tags because here we goooooooo~

~ **Harley** ~

When Harley pulls into the garage, Tony is waiting.

“Shit,” he mutters.

Arms crossed, Tony is leaning on the front bumper of the Lamborghini as he silently watches Harley park in the open spot next to him. Harley shuts off the car and then steps out with an exaggerated stretch. He looks over at Tony, eyebrows raised.

“Were you wanting to take her out for a spin?” he asks.

Tony shoots him an unimpressed look. “How’s Peter?”

Dammit.

“How should I know?”

“Cut the crap, Harley. F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you drove him home. What happened? Did he get shot again?”

“He’s fine, calm down.” Harley crosses his arms and mirrors Tony’s position, leaning his hip against the warm hood of the silver BMW. “He tweaked his ankle a bit but he’ll heal up in no time.”

Tony stares him down like he’s trying to find out if he’s lying. Harley sets his jaw and holds his gaze.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Tony asks without looking away.

“It’s true, boss. Peter sprained his ankle and Harley helped him wrap it with medical supplies stolen from the med bay.”

Harley smiles sharply. “See?”

“And?” Tony prompts. “What other injuries?”

“A laceration on his face, bruised ribs, and minor lacerations on his right knee,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. supplies readily. Harley tries to hide his surprise at the bruised ribs. He probably should have assumed Peter would hide what he could get away with and it’s not like he could do anything to treat bruised ribs anyway.

Tony nods, looking satisfied and then shoots Harley a stern look. “I’m not gonna give you hell for the car thing but don’t think you can sneak this shit past me.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, already plotting how to get around tattle-tale F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Tony Stark’s state of the art security system for next time.

Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why I put up with you two. You’re going to send me to an early grave.”

“Shut up. You love us.”

“God help me.”

~*~

Thursday passes in a blur of upgrades and minor repairs that Tony throws at him last minute and before Harley knows it, it’s Friday.

“What’s got you in such a cheery mood?” Tony asks without looking up from the device he has gutted all over his workbench.

Belatedly, Harley realizes he’s humming and stops. “It’s payday,” he says simply.

Tony shoots him a disbelieving look from the corner of his eye. “Uh-huh. You gonna get your package sent out before Pete stops by?”

Harley pauses and checks the time. It’s already after two and Peter usually shows up around four. “Shit, yeah I guess I should. Lemme finish this one thing…”

He finishes a weld on the housing of a tiny canister and admires the seam. He’s gotten pretty fucking good with the TIG welder if he says so himself. He still misses his MIG welder back home but he’s nothing if not adaptable. He sets aside the canister and picks up his watch. It’s missing its face and wires are sticking out of places they have no business being. He’s been brainstorming all week and he’s finally at a place where he’s happy with his progress.

After the whole kidnapping fiasco, he realized he doesn’t have a solid way to fight back against that kind of threat. He’s got little gadgets he can keep in his pockets that might slow someone down, but everything happened so fast he’s not sure he’d have been able to get anything out of his pocket in time to use it.

Hence, the modifications to his watch. So far only the panic button and taser are operational but he has plans to add more tricks. The little canister he just finished welding is a flash grenade that’s going to be affixed to the wristband beside the face. He’s just got to figure out a way to attach it so that it doesn’t accidentally fall off, but also so that he can rip it free in an emergency. He’s thinking magnets but needs to tinker a little more to find out if that’ll work as well as he’s hoping. Excited for the final product, he loses himself in the work.

The next thing he knows, Peter’s standing in front of him curiously examining his watch.

“You’re early,” Harley says.

Peter checks his watch. “Uh no? I’m a bit late actually.”

Harley checks the time. “Well, shit.”

Tony lifts his head and blinks up at the two of them, just now noticing Peter’s presence. “Are you early?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “It’s after four.”

“Oh shit.” He turns to Harley. “Weren’t you going to go to the post office before he got here?”

“Lost track of time,” Harley mutters. He snaps the face back on his watch and fastens it around his wrist.

“Don’t they close at five?” Tony asks.

“Fuck. Okay, okay. I gotta run there real quick and then we can get started,” he says to Peter.

“I’ll come with you,” Peter offers.

“It’s just the post office,” Harley says. “I’ll be quick.”

“I mean, it’s not like I can do much here until you get back,” Peter points out. “Might as well take a walk… unless you’d rather go by yourself. That’s fine if you do! I just thought, you know, if you don’t mind. Unless it’s private and you want to-,”

“God Parker, shut up,” Harley says without heat. Good _Lord_ can that boy ramble. “I don’t care if you come as long as you don’t slow me down.”

He starts for the door and Peter jogs after him with a grin.

“I don’t know if you know this, but Spider-Man’s got pretty good endurance and-,” Peter leans in and stage whispers- “I’m Spider-Man.”

Harley snorts. “You’re a dork is what you are.”

The doors slide open. “At least I’m fun.”

Harley opens his mouth to continue their bantering but Tony’s voice interrupts.

“ _Bye_ , don’t mind me. I’ll keep the lab warm while you’re gone.”

Harley smirks. “You do that.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Bring back dinner or don’t bother coming back.”

Harley scoffs, a sarcastic quip on his tongue, but Peter mock salutes and chirps, “Sir, yes sir,” before turning and skipping fully out of the lab and towards the elevator. Harley and Tony meet each others’ eyes with twin smiles. Harley shakes his head and follows Peter into the elevator where he instructs F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take them up to the penthouse. There isn’t a button for it, just like there isn’t a button for the Avengers’ floor. The only way to get to either one is with F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s permission.

“So what are we mailing?” Peter asks. He’s bouncing a little on the balls of his feet like going to the post office is the most exciting thing he’s done all week. Harley leans his shoulder against the wall and sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Just a few things for my ma and Abbie. I always send them somethin’ on payday.”

“That’s nice of you.”

Harley shrugs and doesn’t respond as the elevator doors open with a ding. It is what it is. He does it as much for himself as he does for them. It helps him feel close to them, despite the miles of separation. He leads the way down the hall to his room and hopes it’s not as messy as he remembers it.

It definitely is.

Worn clothes sit in a heap next to the laundry hamper. The desk is littered with an array of balled up pieces of paper, candy wrappers, and books. An empty cereal bowl sits on the nightstand and a half-completed something or other is on the floor under the window leaking fluid into the carpet. _That’ll stain_. His laptop is also on the floor, tucked halfway under his bed. Dirty clothes pepper the room with spots of color and the whole place holds the faint scent of engine oil. Abbie would say it smells like a garage but it smells like home to him.

Peter hovers in the doorway while Harley darts in and grabs a bulging plastic sack from the foot of his unmade bed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Peter’s curious gaze snaps away from Harley’s stuff to meet his eyes and for a second Harley’s breath freezes in his throat. All of the sudden his bedroom feels small, intimate. Then Peter smiles awkwardly and steps back out of the doorway and the moment passes. Harley shakes his head and shoves that feeling way deep down inside him and steps out of the room.

“So what’s in the bag?” Peter asks when they’re back in the elevator, this time heading down.

Harley shrugs. “Dumb stuff. Like, touristy stuff. Some candy.” He glances in the bag and laughs. He pulls out a t-shirt that he’d forgotten about. He bought it last week for Abbie.

He holds it up for Peter to see. It’s a black shirt with white print on the front that says, ‘I heart NYC.’ Inside the heart is a Spider-Man mask. He grins at Peter’s gasp of excitement.

“Oh, no way! Where’d you get that? I’m going to get one for everyone for Christmas!”

Harley laughs. “They were selling them at some pop up stand a while ago. I don’t know if they’re still there.”

“We have to check!”

“Alright, alright. But post office first.”

“Deal.”

In the lobby, Peter waves goodbye to the receptionist even though she’s busy with someone else and doesn’t notice. That sort of thing used to piss Harley off. Peter’s always been too nice, too friendly, too considerate. He’s not sure why the same action that used to annoy him is endearing now. Maybe it was the jealousy talking before.

Harley pushes the door but only gets it halfway open before Peter latches onto his forearm _hard_.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmurs, face deathly serious.

Harley’s heart skips and an instant later he’s blinded and everything gets very loud. He flinches back and crashes into Peter’s chest as Peter moves forward and yanks the door shut.

They stumble back a few steps and then stand there dumbfounded as Harley grasps that they aren’t being attacked. Dozens of reporters are clustered around the front doors, shouting questions and taking millions of flashing photos that aren’t going to turn out through the glass.

Harley sucks in a sharp breath and realizes it’s his first in several long seconds. Heart still pounding, he blinks rapidly to clear the greenish blotches from his vision and turns away from the doors only to find that Peter still has a hold of his arm just above his wrist and is watching him.

“You okay?” he asks.

Harley nods sharply. “You?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes.

“Guess we should’ve gone out the garage.”

Peter shrugs and glances out the doors where the mob is pressed up, still shouting and taking photos. Several have even thought to turn off the flash.

“Why’s there so many?” Harley asks, as Peter lets go of him and they wordlessly turn back towards the elevator. There’s always one or two reporters waiting outside on the off-chance Tony makes an appearance but it’s almost never this bad.

Unfortunately, they now have the attention of everyone in the lobby. There’s a crowd of employees who were most likely trying to leave for the day and get a jump start on their weekend but now are stuck waiting for security unless they want to brave the mob of desperate paparazzi.

“I mean… we did get kidnapped a week ago. I guess we’re still news. Sorry!” Peter directs the apology to those gathered.

Harley nods in apology towards a small group in jeans, blouses, and polos. Their apologies are waved off. Luckily, most Stark Industries employees are used to the second-hand spotlight that comes with being employed by a celebrity.

“I haven’t been following it,” Harley admits. He keeps to himself how he spent the week keeping an eye out for Spider-Man related news instead. He noticed the articles about their kidnapping of course but was always quick to scroll past them.

Peter shrugs. “I looked Sunday but haven’t been keeping up. People at school are already over it so I kinda assumed everyone else was too.”

Before he can hit the button for the elevator and it opens, spilling a near frantic Tony Stark into the lobby.

“Are you okay?” he demands, not waiting for an answer before looking them both over for injuries. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you got mobbed by reporters on the front steps.”

“We’re okay,” Peter assures him, patiently letting Tony check him over.

“Yeah, we didn’t even make it out the door before Peter noticed them,” Harley says, swatting away Tony’s hands when he tries to pat him down. “We’re fine and you’re making a scene.”

Tony looks past the boys and finds the lobby to be near max capacity with all the employees coming down the main elevator bank only to find they can’t leave the building. They’re all very carefully not looking at them but are definitely paying attention. Security finally arrives and makes a beeline for the front doors.

“Right, right,” Tony says. “Into the elevator then.” He herds them towards the elevator and F.R.I.D.A.Y. opens the doors automatically as they approach. He turns towards the security team and says, “You there, yeah, clear those fuckers off. Uh. Strong work.”

The team nods his way but otherwise ignores him as they continue to do their job. The elevator doors close and Tony whirls on them.

“What were you thinking, going out the front door?”

“Uh,” Harley looks at Peter who’s jutting out his jaw and glaring up at Tony. “We were just gonna go to the post office.”

“They’ve been out there all week waiting to get a glimpse of one of you. How could you not notice?”

Harley blinks over at Peter and is relieved to see that he’s equally perplexed.

“I haven’t really… gone out,” Harley says. “Except that one time through the garage. I had no idea.”

Tony seems to accept this answer and turns towards Peter expectantly.

“I don’t use the front door unless I’m with you or Harley,” he says with an irritated edge. “If you knew they were out there why didn’t you say anything? Harley almost walked right into them! If it wasn’t for my spidey sense, he would have.” He crosses his arms and reflects Tony’s expectant look right back at him.

Harley stands there and doesn’t say a word as the pair stare each other down. Other than last week, he’s never seen Peter and Tony get into it and even then it was mostly just Tony stress-lecturing while Peter sullenly waited for him to run out of steam. Him and Tony snark good-naturedly back and forth and give each other crap all the time, but this isn’t good-natured. This is intense.

The elevator dings as the doors slide open on the penthouse floor. Nobody moves.

Harley clears his throat. Peter glances at him and the tension breaks. Tony steps out of the elevator, running his hand through his hair and they follow after him. When Peter tries to split off and head for his room Harley snags his sleeve and tows him to the kitchen. Peter drags his feet but allows himself to be pulled along, much to Harley’s relief.

Harley’s got a good deal of experience playing the mediator role between Abbie and Mama and he’s found it’s always better to work stuff out before it has time to fester. Not that they don’t get along most of the time, but there’s something about being a preteen that makes everything a grave insult and sometimes you just need a little perspective shift from someone who’s not your parent.

Tony goes straight for the coffee pot and Harley pulls out the hot cocoa mix after depositing Peter and his sack of souvenirs at the table. If Tony or Peter think hot cocoa in May is weird neither of them says anything about it. In fact, nobody says anything at all until they have a hot drink in their hands. Peter and Harley sit across from each other at the table while Tony stands, leaning back against the counter.

“I should have warned you boys about the paps. This one’s on me,” Tony says after a fortifying slurp.

Harley watches as Peter’s shoulders relax and he takes a tentative sip of his cocoa.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harley says. “It probably should have been obvious.”

Tony shakes his head. “Not to you. I keep forgetting… I was brought up in the spotlight. Anticipating what the media is going to do is a reflex for me by now. Second nature. I keep forgetting you boys are normal. Or at least you were until I screwed that up that for you.”

Harley shakes his head, but Peter speaks before he can.

“It’s worth it,” Peter says quietly. Tony looks up and they lock eyes.

Harley holds his breath as some kind of unspoken understanding passes between the pair. A wave of bitterness rises up within him, choking him, but he washes it down with some hot cocoa and tries to ignore how redundant he feels. It’s easier than it used to be. At least now he understands why Tony and Peter are so connected in a way he isn’t. Tony is not only _Peter’s_ mentor, but _Spider-Man’s_ as well. It adds a facet to their father-son-like relationship that Harley won’t ever have.

And that’s fine. He gets it now. So he tries to let go of the bitterness and the envy and be grateful that he’s here. Getting here was all he ever wanted and he’s got to learn to be happy with it.

Peter looks away first, glancing at the bag sitting on top of the table beside him.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it to the post office before they close.” He looks over at Harley with a rueful smile.

Harley shrugs. “I’ll go tomorrow. I’m more upset that we didn’t get dinner.”

Peter throws his head back and groans. “And I didn’t get to look for those shirts!”

Harley cracks a smile. Somehow Peter’s theatrics soothe away the melancholy without even trying or realizing what he’s doing. “Oh no. Now what are you gonna get for everyone for Christmas?” he asks with faux distress.

“I know,” Peter moans, genuinely upset.

“You were Christmas shopping in May?” Tony asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Christmas shopping is a year-round responsibility,” Peter says, matter of fact. “You never know when you’re going to stumble across the perfect gift.”

Harley snorts so hard he chokes on his cocoa which sets Peter off laughing and Tony has to hide his smile behind his mug.

Once their drinks are gone, Tony orders pizza and Peter boots up Mario Kart so they can play while they wait for it to arrive. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise Harley how competitive Peter is, but it does. He’s usually so mild-mannered and nice but put a controller in his hands and apparently all of that falls away.

“This controller doesn’t work,” Tony grumbles the fifth time he drives off the edge.

Harley and Peter ignore him, focused on their neck and neck battle for first place. At the last second, Harley throws the green turtle shell he’s been holding behind him for the past lap and a half and nails Peter, causing Rosalina to flip head over heels as Koopa Troopa sails over the finish line.

Harley and Peter explode simultaneously.

“YES!” Harley crows, jumping up from the couch to pump his arms over his head.

“ _Godfuckingdammit!_ ”

Harley cackles as Tony stares wide-eyed at Peter and Toad drives off the edge again.

“Rematch,” Peter demands.

“You’re on,” Harley says grinning widely.

“There’s no way you can pull that off twice.”

“It’s called strategy, Spider Baby.”

“It’s called _luck_ , asshole.”

“Call it whatever you want. I’ll still kick your ass again and again… _and again_.”

“You can fucking try. We’re doing the Banana Cup this time. Fuck the Special Cup.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. You’re still goin’ down.”

Peter mutters under his breath as he works the controls, setting up the next heat. Harley watches him with a smile.

“Children, children. Cut the trash-talk,” Tony says. “Someone switch me controllers. I think mine’s-,”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Peter snaps. “You picked _Toad_.”

“What’s wrong with the mushroom guy? I thought he looked fast,” Tony says.

“He is fast,” Harley says, rolling his eyes. “Makes him harder to steer when you’re not that good. You should pick Bowser or Metal Mario or someone until you get better.”

Tony pouts, looking offended. “ _Not that good_ ,” he mutters under his breath, but he picks Bowser as recommended when the character selection screen pops up. “How come neither of you told me not to pick mushroom guy?”

Harley shrugs as they rapidly select their favorite karts, tires, and gliders. He chooses the flower glider just for fun and Peter picks the squirrel one like always while Tony picks the Bowser glider to match his character.

“Kinda thought you’d figure it out on your own. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

Peter snorts.

“This is why I never wanted kids,” Tony mutters to himself.

Harley lightly trash talks Peter as the clock counts down and Peter snaps back with rarely seen ferocity. It delights Harley to no end. He’ll have to see if F.R.I.D.A.Y. has a recording that he can put on Instagram.

They take off like rockets, fire blasting from the backs of their karts while Tony spins out, cursing. Peter wins the first race, barely, but that doesn’t stop him from gloating.

“Your ass is mine,” Peter says as the clock counts down for race number two.

“I mean, it could be. If you ask real polite.”

Peter whips his head around to gawk at him and misses the speed boost. Harley cackles as he bursts across the starting line in first place. Peter curses and Harley laughs even louder at Tony’s pleased exclamation as he slams into Peter and knocks him off the road.

Harley wins the round with Peter in second and Tony, surprisingly, in fourth. Then Peter wins the next race and Harley comes in second. If Harley wants to win the trophy (which he really _really_ does) he’s gotta come in first place but Peter has to come in third or worse. If Peter gets second they’ll tie it up. He’s just gotta make it happen. He can totally do this.

It’s intense. They’re both so focused on winning that they aren’t even trash-talking each other anymore. Harley completely tunes out Tony and is focused solely on annihilating Peter. His strategy is to fall back far enough to get something good from the boxes, something _really_ good, and then catch back up and use it at the last moment just like he did for the first cup. If he’s gonna knock Peter back into third place it’s gotta be better than a green shell or some banana peels.

It would have worked if it wasn’t for Tony.

He manages to get a lightning bolt. As soon as Peter sees it in his inventory he starts cursing up a storm and releases all three of his banana peels in a desperate attempt to keep him from catching up. They don’t stop him.

They round the final corner, neck and neck.

“Say hello to my little friend,” Harley says and unleashes the lightning and all the racers except Harley’s Koopa Troopa shrink. Almost all the racers. Peter snarls and then flies into a rage as Harley runs him over, literally flattening him.

Inches from the finish line, Harley crows in preemptive victory but then Tony, as Bullet Bill, slams into him and sends him flipping end over end into the air in a spray of coins. It doesn’t end there. He and Peter can only scream as player after player crash into them, keeping them from being able to get moving again. Finally, they manage to crawl over the finish line in 9th and 10th place, respectively.

"That was bullshit! How did you get a Bullet Bill?!"

“YOU KILLED ME YOU KILLED ME YOU KILLED ME!”

"I can't fucking believe this!"

“YOU KILLED ME YOU KILLED ME I’M DEAD!”

"How did you get first?! How the fuck did this happen?!"

"It's your fault! If you hadn't used the lightning-,"

All the while, Tony laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Uhh is everything okay in here?” asks a new voice.

“NO!” Harley and Peter shout in unison.

Steve blinks rapidly where he stands just outside the living room, a stack of pizza boxes in his hands.

“Umm.”

“I’ll take those from ya, Cap,” Tony offers, hopping to his feet and dodging around his furious prodigies. “Victory pizza, just in time.”

“Rematch first,” Peter demands.

“Yeah,” Harley adds. “That bullshit didn’t count! Who gets a Bullet Bill in 5th place?”

“Me,” Tony says with a grin as he takes the pizzas. “And no. No rematches. I’m hanging up my hat with this victory, boys. Tony Stark: Master of the Game.”

The boys erupt all over again, shouting over each other in an indistinguishable cacophony that has Steve backing up a step and Tony grinning wider.

“If you boys wanna play so bad maybe you can convince Steve to play,” he tosses over his shoulder as he sets the pizzas on the kitchen counter.

“Steve doesn’t even know how to hold the controller,” Peter snaps with vitriol. Steve frowns, hurt and confused.

“You didn’t master anything,” Harley argues. “You got lucky! You can’t win once and then never play again.”

“Watch me,” Tony says with a smirk. “Now, we’re going to sit down as a family to eat this pizza and watch a movie. I’ll even let you boys pick as long as you can do it without fighting.”

Harley and Peter open their mouths furiously.

“Ah ah,” Tony interrupts. “Don’t make me take away lab privileges.”

They snap their mouths shut and fume silently instead. Peter violently pulls some paper plates out of the cupboard while Harley starts grabbing glasses.

“You wanna stay for dinner, Cap?”

Steve glances at the boys in the kitchen and shakes his head. “Uh, maybe next time?”

Tony laughs and walks Steve around the corner and down the hall to the elevator. They can still hear him as he says, “Suit yourself. You know, kids aren’t that bad. Honestly, if I could bottle this feeling and sell it I’d be a billionaire. Oh, wait.”

He laughs at his own joke and Peter and Harley trade looks.

“Should we hide a bunch of hot sauce under the cheese?” Harley asks in a hushed tone.

Peter considers this and then shakes his head. “That’s a Sunday night kind of prank. Not Friday when we have a whole weekend of lab time he could take away.”

Harley nods, agreeing with this assessment. Then he smiles and hip bumps Peter. “Smart thinking. Sunday we’re gonna wreck his shit though, right?”

“Oh for sure,” Peter says, matching his grin.

The night ends as movie nights typically do. The pizza is gone and empty glasses and plates litter the coffee table. Peter is passed out practically in Harley’s lap, probably in a food coma after eating almost two entire pizzas by himself and Harley is barely hanging onto consciousness.

Tony grins at him as he stands from the chair where Harley used to sit and stretches exaggeratedly. “Night, kid. Good luck disentangling yourself from that one,” he says softly.

Harley glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it. Equally quiet, he says, “You’re welcome. We both know your old man bod can’t take many more nights on the couch.”

Tony snorts. “You can pretend that’s the reason all you want but you can’t fool me.”

He walks away before Harley can drum up a snarky response and that’s fine. If he’s being honest with himself he can admit that he’s been thinking about last Saturday all week. He meant it when he told Peter it was the best sleep he’s had since he left Rose Hill. He’s been dying for a repeat. When the movie started, Peter hadn’t hesitated to get comfortable beside Harley on the couch and it makes him wonder if he wouldn’t mind. If maybe he’s been thinking about it too.

When he hears Tony’s distant bedroom door click shut he pokes at Peter. Peter snuffles softly and rubs his cheek on Harley’s thigh. He has his arms wrapped around it like a koala so there’s no way Harley can lay down without disturbing him but there’s also no way he’s going to suffer through a night spent sitting up.

“C’mon Spider Baby, I can’t sleep like this,” Harley says, and digs a pointed finger between Peter’s ribs.

Peter flinches and groans. “Cut i’ ou’,” he mumbles. “‘M sleepin’.”

“Well I wanna be sleepin’ too. So scoot.”

Peter lifts his head and squints around the dark room with a frown. “Oh. Sorry I can go.” He rubs his eyes with his knuckles and Harley bites his lip. No one over the age of five has a right to be this cute.

“That’s not what I meant. I just wanna lay down.”

“Oh,” Peter repeats and then seems to notice that his left arm is still wedged under Harley’s thigh and he yanks it out with a deep blush and sits up fully. “Sorry.”

“Quit that. Are you stayin’ or leavin’?”

Peter just looks at him. “What?”

Harley sighs. “I mean, I’m not gonna sleep on the couch for no reason, but if you’re stayin’ then I’ll stay. If you want that, I mean.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a long minute. Long enough that Harley starts to think maybe he’s been reading things wrong. Maybe he should go.

“Staying,” Peter finally says, just as Harley’s about to pick himself up off the couch to go lick his wounds in private.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Peter shrugs and looks away, missing Harley’s relieved smile.

“Well then scoot over.” Harley swivels, pulling his legs up onto the couch and wiggles his way between Peter and the backrest.

“No fair. How come you get the back and I get the edge?” Peter complains but doesn’t try to stop him.

Harley rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna let you fall.”

Peter sets his jaw and narrows shrewd eyes at Harley. His hair is a curly mess atop his head and Harley can’t help but think he looks adorable. He pushes that thought away. Friends. He’s trying to be _friends_ with Peter. Friends who snuggle on the couch sometimes. Who maybe fall asleep together on occasion. Totally normal friends.

“You’re gonna be glued to me either way,” Harley points out. “If you fall, I fall.”

Peter considers this and then seems to accept it. “Fine.”

It’s not a small couch by any means, but it is just a couch and getting two grown teenage boys on it is a tight fit. Peter tucks his head against Harley’s chest, just under his chin, and they tangle their legs together. Harley wraps his arm around Peter’s back and holds him firmly, not wanting to break his promise.

Peter sighs, barely audible, but Harley feels the ghost of it dance across his collarbone and then Peter relaxes into him and somehow nuzzles closer. Harley closes his eyes and soaks in the feeling of being held, not sure when he’ll get to experience it next. Within minutes Peter is snoring softly but Harley lays awake for a long time before he finally allows himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment! After this, the fluff starts comin' and it don't stop comin' so brace yourselves and maybe set up an appointment for a teeth cleaning to avoid those pesky fluff-induced cavities ;)


	6. It’s a thin rope, but somebody’s gotta walk it

~ **Peter** ~

Peter startles. Something changed. Something’s different. There’s someone-

“Shh, it’s just me,” Mr. Stark’s voice soothes from above. Calloused fingers lightly scratch his scalp and comb through his curls. Peter hums happily and snuggles closer to Harley. Warmth seeps into him where he hadn’t realized he’d been cold before and Peter realizes they’ve been covered with a blanket.

He’s asleep again before Mr. Stark can make it out of the room.

~*~

The next time Peter wakes up, there’s a rumble under his cheek and someone is playing with his hair again but when he turns his head to give them a better angle, the sun blinds him. He presses his face against Harley’s chest and makes a sound of dissatisfaction in the back of his throat.

“Is the swamp creature finally awake?” Mr. Stark’s voice calls from far away. The air smells like bacon.

“Define awake,” Harley says, amused, and that rumble under Peter’s cheek is back.

Peter grunts to show his unhappiness with this conversation but doesn’t do anything to disrupt how comfortable he is. His stomach growls and Harley laughs lightly.

“I don’t think you can ignore the morning much longer Spider Baby,” Harley says soft enough that Mr. Stark in the other room can’t hear.

Peter begs to differ.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Mr. Stark calls. “You boys going to more than just the post office?”

“Maybe. Haven’t talked about it,” Harley says, still running his fingers over Peter’s scalp and fluffing his hair.

“Well, wear hats or something this time and let me know how long you’re gonna be out.”

“Sure thing, _mom_.”

“Hey, hey! I’m perfectly valid in my helicopter parenting! You two got kidnapped a week ago, in case you’d forgotten, and the paparazzi are out for blood so just… play it smart. Be careful. I have a heart condition, you know.”

“We will,” Harley allows. “Besides, we’ve got Spider-Man. We’ll be fine.”

“You had Spider-Man last time too,” Mr. Stark points out, suddenly from within the room.

“Yeah, and we were fine. You didn’t even have to pay the ransom.”

“Oh kiddo. I definitely paid that ransom.”

Peter sits up so fast he nearly falls off the couch. Only Harley’s arm around his waist keeps him from tumbling over the edge and biffing his face on the coffee table.

“You what?” he asks, tongue thick with sleep as he sways.

“There’s Sleeping Beauty,” Mr. Stark coos.

Peter blinks several times and rubs his eyes to clear the grit so he can see Mr. Stark with a spatula in hand, leaning on the door frame to the kitchen, smiling.

“You did not pay that ransom,” he says.

“I definitely did. All 500 mil.”

“Oh my God.” Peter puts his face in his hands. “Oh my _God_.”

“And I’ll do it again if I have to, but I’d rather you boys stay safe and out of trouble, capisce?”

“Why would you- Why did you- I don’t- That was _so much money_ ,” Peter settles on.

Mr. Stark sighs and walks over to the coffee table across from the couch and takes a seat, putting a hand on Peter’s knee.

“It was, but I don’t regret paying it. I mean it when I say I’ll do it again. I didn’t hesitate the first time and I won’t hesitate a second or, God forbid, a third.”

“Did you get it back after they got arrested?” Harley asks, unusually solemn. Peter scoots over so Harley can sit up. He pulls his feet up, tucking his knees against his chest as Harley swings his feet to the floor.

Mr. Stark shakes his head. “Not yet. They’re still trying to track it down.”

Peter rests his forehead on his knees. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not upset about it and you shouldn’t be either.”

“But-,”

“No buts. Besides, if the police can find the account it got moved to they might be able to link those guys to other crimes too. They weren’t exactly shy about it not being their first rodeo.” He shrugs. “Seems like a worthy cause to me.”

“But Mr. Stark-,”

“No buts!” he repeats, pointing his spatula threateningly.

Peter plows ahead anyway. “They only asked for five hundred thousand! It’s my fault that it was so much!”

Mr. Stark levels him with a look. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Pete. I know exactly why you did it. You were getting that gun pointed away from Harley. While I’d prefer neither of you has a gun pointed at you, I get why you did it and I’m not mad. So don’t sweat it, kiddo. You did good.”

He squeezes Peter’s knee and stands. “We’re done talking about this shit. The past is in the past. It’s time to look forward to the future and your future… is full of burnt bacon.”

Peter sniffs as Mr. Stark hightails it back to the kitchen and sure enough, it smells like Aunt May’s cooking. He smiles and looks over at Harley to find him already looking back, an unreadable look on his face. Peter’s smile falters.

“If you’re wanting me to promise never to do it again, I won’t.”

“I know,” Harley says, distantly. He shakes his head and clenches his fists in his lap. “I know. It’s a bitter pill but… I get it.”

“Letting me protect you is a bitter pill?” Peter asks, unable to keep the sourness from his tone.

Harley presses his lips together and treats Peter to a flat look. “No. Knowing you’ll let yourself get hurt to keep me safe…” he looks down at his hands, “and me agreeing that it’s the logical choice, that’s the bitter pill. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me but I get it. I don’t _like_ it, but I get it.”

He looks up and they lock eyes. A weight seems to slide off Peter’s shoulders and something loosens in his chest, allowing his lungs to expand. Relief. He’s relieved that for once he doesn’t have to fight to be treated like an adult. For once he’s not being treated like a precious child in need of coddling.

“Thanks,” he says softly.

A wry smile twists Harley’s lips. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t had to wait in line with the rest of New York trying to get a package in the mail before Sunday. Oh, and we need to take a selfie and get it printed before we go.”

“What? Why?” Peter asks.

Harley shrugs. A fond exasperation colors his face that Peter finds intriguing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Harley _soft_ like this before.

“Hell if I know. I woke up to like 50 texts from Abbie this morning. Apparently we’re trending. There’s like a million articles with pictures from yesterday but I guess all the pictures are really shitty? I don’t know. She just insisted we take a better picture together and send it to her.”

Peter’s grinning. He’s heard about Abbie of course. She’s Harley’s younger sister. All he really knows about her is that she’s in high school and her and Harley text all the time. “Okay so why do we have to print and mail it? Why can’t you just text it to her?”

Harley smirks. “Well see, she didn’t specify how she wanted it sent so I figured since we’re already going to the post office we might as well send it with the rest of the stuff.”

Peter laughs. “Why?”

Harley shrugs. “It’s a big brother thing. You do what they ask because you want ‘em happy, but you do it in the most irritating way possible because you don’t want ‘em _too_ happy.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’ll never understand sibling culture.”

“It’s a thin rope, but somebody’s gotta walk it.”

~*~

The single selfie they’d meant to take turns into a photo frenzy. Peter had forgotten how much he enjoyed photography back before being Spider-Man ate up all of his free time. He’d forgotten how _good_ he’d been but he hasn’t forgotten the skill.

“These are seriously good,” Harley says for the tenth time, flicking through the few dozen photos of the two of them (with some cameos from Mr. Stark and the Avengers peppered in for flavor) on Peter’s phone.

“Just pick one to send to your sister,” Peter says, staring up at the ceiling and fighting the itch to swing home and get his real camera. He thinks it might be in his closet somewhere. Or maybe in his desk? It’s been a while.

“How am I supposed to pick between our burnt bacon mustachioed selves and Very Serious Mechanics Who Also Happen to be Mustachioed Spies But This Time the Mustaches are Engine Grease? That’s not even taking into account the entire series that showcases our relationship from the initial meet-cute, to the proposal, then the wedding, the kids, the inevitable divorce, and my resulting struggle with alcoholism and your homelessness! It’s impossible to pick just one because they’re all so good,” Harley moans.

“Let’s just print all of them then,” Peter suggests blandly, nudging the wall with his toe to set his webbed up hammock into a gentle swing. He’d made it plenty big enough for two, but Harley had flat out refused to come up with him. It had offended Peter for a hot minute. His knee-jerk reaction was to think Harley didn’t trust him or his homemade web fluid but then Harley swallowed thickly and confessed that he isn’t ‘big on heights’. It’s hardly four feet off the ground but Peter’d be a big fat hypocrite if he belittled someone’s phobia by trying to rationalize it.

Harley sits up from where he’d been lying on his bed and turns to Peter with bright eyes. “I’ve just had _the best_ idea.”

Peter peers down at him, interested. “Yeah? Better than the Obnoxious Laughter feat. The Avengers series?”

Harley considers this. “On par,” he decides. “But hear me out! We could make an intern photo wall in the lab. Or maybe a hanging mobile. It’ll be so over the top but Tony will secretly love the shit out of it. It can be his birthday gift from the two of us.”

A slow grin steals across Peter’s face. “D’you think Walgreens will call the media on us for all the Avengers pics?”

“If they do it’ll be worth it. C’mon, we’ll get duplicates and then I can just pick whatever for Abbie and we’ll have plenty of extras in case we fuck up.”

“What time is it? Are we still gonna have time to make it to the post office after they’re done getting developed?”

Harley checks Peter’s phone. “It’s only 1:30. As long as the line isn’t unbearably long we should be fine.”

They spend the next twenty minutes setting up a Walgreens photo account and uploading the pictures before they can finally send off the order. It’s a bitter thing for Peter. Ben had been the one with the photo account and always helped Peter get his photos developed. They’d always talked about someday getting a place where they could have a dark room and Peter could develop his own things.

“D’you want to go see if that stand still has Spidey shirts while we wait?” Harley asks, breaking Peter out of his morbid thoughts. He tucks the thoughts away and tries to summon up the excitement he’d been feeling before.

“Yeah, and we should find a craft store. We’re gonna need supplies.” Peter rolls out of the hammock and lands lightly on the balls of his feet. He starts ticking things off on his fingers. “Pipe cleaners, construction paper, puff paint, glue, scissors-,”

“Glitter,” he and Harley speak in unison. They grin devilishly at each other and high five.

“I like the way your brain works,” Harley says and Peter bites his lip and turns away to hide his smile. Was it really only a week ago that they were at each others’ throats? Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it definitely felt like they’d never see eye-to-eye and now they’re plotting joint birthday gifts.

“This is gonna be epic,” he says, bouncing in excitement. “Oh man, I can’t wait to see the look on Mr. Stark’s face!”

“Well try to hold it together, Spider Baby. We’ve still got a couple weeks before the big day. Don’t spoil the surprise.”

Peter pouts. “I can keep a secret.”

Harley raises his eyebrows. “From Tony?”

Peter hesitates. “Shit.”

“You can tell him you’re busy with finals and stuff and can’t come by as often,” Harley suggests slowly, a frown on his face. Peter frowns too. It would mean a couple weeks of him not getting to hang out with Harley after they finally started getting along but he can’t really see a way around it. He’s terrible at lying to Mr. Stark.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I guess I’ll have to. He can always tell when I’m not telling him something.”

Harley purses his lips and the room goes silent, the building excitement from moments ago struck down with startling efficiency. Then Peter perks up, an idea taking root.

“You could come over though! So we can work on it together. Aunt May won’t mind the crafting. She’ll think it’s funny.”

Harley starts to grin but then it falters. “But Tony’ll be suspicious about why I’m at your place all the time while you’re supposed to be studying. Telling him I’m helping you study won’t fly because we could just as easily do that here.”

Peter’s excitement dims and they fall into silence once more as they try to think up a solution.

“You’d have to lie to him,” Peter says slowly.

“I don’t have a problem lying,” Harley assures him quickly. “It’s thinking up a convincing one that’s the problem. I wouldn’t be able to tell him I’m with you and… I don’t know anyone else in New York.”

“So tell him you met someone new.”

“Where? How?” Harley asks. “I don’t _go places_ so how would I meet anyone?”

“We’re going places today,” Peter says, unwilling to let him off the hook that easily. “You could say that you met someone at the post office and got to chatting cuz the line was so long and you two really hit it off so you swapped numbers. Easy.”

Harley snorts. “That shit doesn’t happen in real life.”

“Sure it does!” Peter insists, stubbornly. “It happens all the time! I could totally see it happening to you with that accent and your swoopy beach hair and those big blue eyes. And you’re always so polite to strangers. It’s totally plausible.”

Harley looks at him with raised eyebrows and a small smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

Peter scoffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t read into it. I’m just stating the facts.” He tries to make his tone forceful enough to negate the blush creeping up his neck. So what if he finds Harley attractive? It’s not like he’s going to do anything about it. They’re barely even friends.

“Sure you were Spider Baby.”

The blush spreads to his cheeks. “Why do you keep calling me that?” he demands. He doesn’t mind it. It doesn’t make him feel like he’s being talked down to like when the Avengers call him ‘the spider baby’. It makes him feel… something else entirely. A little warm maybe but like… on the inside.

“It’s a term of endearment, sweetheart. Because I find you endearing,” Harley says, flippant.

Peter’s blush increases ten-fold and his mind races to figure out what he means by _that_ but Harley steers them back to their original conversation. “It’s the best idea we’ve got so let’s just go with it, I guess. Maybe we can even doctor up some evidence using those fancy picture taking skills you’ve been hiding.”

Peter lights up. Now that sounds like fun.

~*~

They spend the rest of the afternoon scrambling to get their errands done while dodging the paparazzi who are _everywhere_. Peter wonders if someone at Walgreens really did call the media on them. By the time they collapse on Aunt May’s couch, shopping bags at their feet, they’re exhausted.

Over the past four hours they’ve been forced to duck into no less than six alleys, five different bodegas, and hid behind two dumpsters. They barely made it to the post office in time thanks to the reporter who followed them for 12 blocks. They only lost him thanks to the timely departure of the subway car they managed to squeeze onto before the doors shut, but then they had to backtrack to get back to the right part of the city.

“It’s like they knew we’d be out today,” Harley says. His head is tipped back and his eyes are closed. Both arms are laid atop the back of the couch like an invitation.

Peter tips over until he’s leaning into Harley’s chest. “They’re relentless. Why do they care so much?”

Harley lets his arm fall around Peter’s shoulders. “I dunno but we’ve got to do something to get them to back off.”

Peter hums in agreement and they fall quiet. The silence is blissful after the stressful day they’ve had. The clock in the kitchen ticks softly and Latin music drifts up from the floor below, soft enough that it’s probably inaudible to Harley’s ears.

Peter’s eyes pop open and he sits up, dislodging Harley’s arm as an idea strikes. “We should do a Q&A.”

Harley peeks at him with one eye. “Good luck getting Tony to agree. You know he’s trying not to bother Pepper too much while she’s out of the country and she’s the one who’s actually good at handling the press stuff.”

“No, I don’t mean like a press conference. I mean like a _Q &A._ We just need a YouTube channel.”

Harley sits up and stares at Peter. “Holy shit, you’re a genius.” A shockingly bright grin flashes across his face and Peter’s heart does a flip. “Just imagine how pissed off all those reporters are going to be when we steal their five minutes of fame and totally eclipse whatever shitty photos they managed to get of us today.”

Peter grins, open-mouthed with delight and laughs. “Yes, yes, yes. We _have_ to!”

“Right now,” Harley says. “Let’s do it right now. When’s your aunt gonna be home?”

“Not ‘til morning. She’s working an overnight shift.” Peter pops up onto his feet. “Do some Googling and find out what people want to know about us. I’ll get the camera and stuff set up. This is gonna be so great!”

He bounds out of the living room as Harley whips out his phone and begins to type.

“What should our channel be called?” Peter yells as he digs through his closet.

“Uh, I dunno. Is this going to be more than a one-time thing?”

Peter abandons the closet and stands in the doorway. “Isn’t it? If it keeps the paparazzi off our backs and… I dunno. I kinda thought it might be fun.”

Harley stares at him, face unreadable, thumbs hovering uncertainly over the screen. “I… what would we talk about? I don’t know how to have a vlog. What would our content be? We can’t just do Q&As all the time. That would be boring.”

“One,” Peter holds up a finger, “everyone’s gonna watch no matter what the content is. We’re like the Kardashians. We’re famous for being famous. Two,” he holds up a second finger, “I’ll be the idea guy. I’ve always wanted to have a vlog but Ned has a thing about being on camera. It’ll be so much fun, I swear! Please, Harley, please!”

He’s probably overdoing it by bringing out what Mr. Stark calls his ‘Bambi eyes’ but sue him. He’s been wanting a YouTube channel for as long as he can remember and he finally has a potential co-star.

Harley purses his lips and somehow Peter knows he’s won.

“You won’t regret this, I swear,” he says, smiling so hard his cheeks ache. He bounces up and down on his toes and then darts back into his room to finish dragging out his equipment, babbling all the while. “Oh my God, this is the best thing ever. I promise I won’t make us do embarrassing things too often. Like, obviously, we can’t get out of it completely because that’s what the internet wants to see but I’ve got some pretty good ideas for other stuff that I think you might-,”

His breath catches in his throat. His camera bag tumbles out of an unlabeled cardboard box and uncovers the contents beneath it: a few sweaters, some photo albums, a chipped mug… Ben’s stuff. Dusty and forgotten in the back of his closet. A knot rises in his throat and sticks there as he pinches a cable knit sweater and rubs it longingly between his fingers.

“Peter? Did you find Narnia?”

He shakes his head to clear it and quickly grabs the camera bag and a crinkled up reflector and bolts back out to the living room.

“I’m fine,” he says. His voice comes out small.

Harley’s head pops up from his phone and his focused gaze scans Peter from head to toe. Peter tries to ignore him and starts setting up in the kitchen. The lighting is better here.

Harley attempts a smirk, but it’s clearly forced. “Accidentally squish one of your spider buddies?”

“Ha ha,” Peter says sarcastically. He sounds more normal but it’s a far cry from his bubbly chatter a minute ago and he knows it. He tries to force down the gaping maw of emptiness that’s quickly rising up inside him but it won’t budge.

Harley doesn’t push him for an explanation and he’s grateful for that. He feels tired again. Bone deep exhaustion from too many late nights and early mornings. After a few minutes of awkward quiet, he begins to wonder if they can salvage the evening or if it’d be better to record some other time.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Harley eventually says, “but you can if you want to.”

Peter stops trying to get the reflector's stand set up and braces his hands on the table. Without turning he says, “It’s… I just found some of my uncle’s old stuff that’d I’d forgotten about.”

He’d _forgotten_. That’s the worst part. There was a time not too long ago when he’d been hyper-aware of that box in his closet. It was like the ghost of his uncle looming over him every night while he tried to sleep. Asking him why he hadn’t done anything. Why didn’t he stop that man when he first robbed the bodega? Why hadn’t he _tried?_ He could’ve tried. He should have. He had his powers. Why didn’t he?

Then today he’d been looking right at it and hadn’t recognized it until he was already digging through it. It’s like he forgot Uncle Ben. Like he left him behind in some previous chapter of his life as a necessary stepping stone to get to where he is now, but nothing more. Nothing worth taking with him. The same way he’d left behind his parents.

Barely remembered.

Ghosts in the back of his mind.

“C’mere,” Harley says, somehow right next to him.

He should have heard him coming or sensed him or something, but he doesn’t dwell on that as he lets Harley gather him in his arms. Harley smooths a hand up and down Peter’s back and tucks him close as Peter drops his forehead onto Harley’s shoulder. They’re pretty much the same height. Harley is maybe a couple of inches taller. Distantly, he thinks that he should feel weird about letting Harley comfort him, but he doesn’t. It feels right.

They stand there for a long time, just breathing. Harley doesn’t try to say anything to ease the riot of emotions ping-ponging around Peter’s chest and that’s alright with him. He’s glad he doesn’t have to voice his failings and put them out into the world in such a tangible way. He doesn’t want to share those dark damaged parts of himself. Not with anyone, but especially not with Harley. He’s the only one who seems to treat Peter like he’s competent and not just some disaster waiting to fold in on himself. No, he doesn’t want Harley to see who he is under the smile.

Harley keeps one hand on Peter’s back, but the other finds its way into this hair and gently massages his scalp. Peter relaxes further into the embrace.

“We should eat,” Harley says some time later when Peter’s knees are sore from standing. Peter’s stomach growls at the reminder of how long ago their last meal was. They’d meant to stop for a snack but they ran out of time and were too paranoid about being followed to remember to grab anything to have for dinner.

“Okay,” Peter says, but makes no move to pull away.

Harley huffs a warm burst of air that tickles the back of Peter’s neck. He imagines the amused smile that accompanies it and it makes him feel a tiny bit better.

“C’mon. Let’s get you sat down and then I’ll see what there is for food.”

Peter shakes his head against Harley’s collar bone. “There won’t be anything. May’s a terrible cook. We usually just get takeout.”

“Well, then we’ll order in if we need to. You need something though. It’s been way too long since that beast of yours got fed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They continue to stand for several long seconds until Harley snorts and then takes Peter’s head in his hands and presses a kiss to his forehead. Peter’s so surprised he looks up and meets Harley’s eyes and finds a soft smirk gracing his lips. They’re very close but Harley doesn't seem fazed.

“Come on. We’re gonna get you sat and then I’ll take care of supper, alright?” Harley takes his wrist and leads him to the couch where he deposits him. Peter goes down without a fight and watches mutely as Harley pokes around the kitchen for anything edible.

_He kissed me._

“Damn, you really weren’t kidding,” Harley says after a few minutes, hands on his hips. He finds the laminated takeout menus in one of the drawers and flops them back and forth so they make that noise. “You wanna pick?”

Peter shakes his head and tucks his knees up to his chest. He watches dumbly as Harley place an order for sandwiches, probably because they can be delivered the fastest. He wants to protest that he’s over-ordering (really, six sandwiches is too many) but he knows Harley won’t listen and besides, they’ll get eaten eventually.

_He kissed me and… I think I liked it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the fluff train woot woot! Thanks for reading! Leave a comment and happy Wednesday!


	7. Two Guys One Vlog

~ ** Harley ** ~

“So I was thinking of names for our channel,” Harley says, apropos of nothing right before he takes a huge bite of his sandwich. Peter already scarfed down two and is nearly comatose on the opposite end of the couch facing him. Their legs are side by side on the middle cushion and his feet keep knocking against Peter’s knee.

He waits for Peter to make some sort of noise or movement to indicate he’s listening but he doesn’t. Ever since he stumbled upon his uncle’s stuff he’s been distant and like  hell  Harley’s going to leave him in his own head like that. Not when he can find a way to snap him out of it. So he decided to get serious about the blog thing. Vlog. YouTube. Whatever. Peter was so excited about it earlier and Harley knows if he can get Peter fixated on it again he can drag him out of this funk.

He’s just gotta get him to pay attention.

“Earth to Space Cadet. You listening?”

“Hmm?” Peter says, blinking until he focuses on Harley.

Harley raises an eyebrow of disapproval. “I  _ said _ , I’ve been thinking up names for our thing. I think I’ve got a pretty good one.” He pauses, allowing the suspense to build as he pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and chews.

Peter looks vaguely interested which isn’t great, but he’ll take it over staring vacantly at the wall.

“Two Guys One Vlog,” he says after swallowing.

“We are  _not_ calling it that,” Peter retorts. “That’s a horrible name.”

Harley tamps down the smirk that desperately wants to make an appearance.  _ He’s so easy _ . “But it’s in reference to-,”

“I  _know_ what it’s in reference to,” Peter says, sitting up to better fix a disapproving stare on Harley. “I don’t want  that  to be the association people have with our channel.”

“Well then you throw out some ideas, smart guy. Naming shit is hard. Did you know I used to have a fish named Wrench?”

Peter’s lips quirk up into the barest smile. “What? How old were you?”

Harley sniffs delicately. “14. But that’s  _ not the point _ ,” he says loudly over Peter’s startled laugh. “The point is, you’re not pulling your weight. What ideas do you have rattling around in that big brain of yours? I know you’ve got something.”

Peter shrugs and does that shy smile that he likes to do right before he starts nerding out.  Hook, line, and sinker. “I was thinking it should have something to do with Mr. Stark since he’s the reason we’re famous in the first place. Oh, and an alliteration would be cool.”

Harley frowns thoughtfully. “Like… Iron Sons?”

Peter pulls a face. “I don’t think we need any more speculation on whether or not we’re Tony’s long lost biological sons all grown up.”

“It would mess with people though,” Harley points out.

Peter rolls his eyes. “It can’t be all about messing with people. And it’s not an alliteration anyway. I like ‘Iron’ though...” He gasps and locks eyes with Harley. “Iron Interns.”

Harley’s face breaks into a grin. “ _ Yes _ .”

“Iron Interns Vlog?  The  Iron Interns Vlog? Vlogging Iron Interns?”

Harley pulls a face. “The second one I think. Keep it simple but not too simple.”

“The Iron Interns Vlog,” Peter says, excitement filling his face.

The little knot of worry in Harley’s chest loosens at the sight and before he knows it, he’s clearing up their supper mess while Peter bounces happily from subject to subject, a manic energy carrying him around the kitchen as he sets up the camera and gets the space ready to record. Harley stays out of his way, content to lean against the counter and watch him go. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done.

~ ** The Iron Interns Vlog ** ~

** Ep. 1: Q&A **

Harley and Peter are sitting at a small table. The wood is dark in contrast to the light green wall behind them. The lighting is good. They both look a little tired, a bit worn. Harley’s hair is flattened like he’s been wearing a hat while Peter’s is a wild tangle of curls upon his head. Peter is sitting up straight and smiling brightly looking at the camera and Harley is slouched back watching Peter attentively.

“Hi everybody! I’m Peter Parker and this is Harley Keener. Welcome to our first video!” Peter greets the camera with a grin. “This’ll be kind of sloppy because we didn’t really plan it out, but I’m hoping in the future we’ll have more of a structure.”

Harley looks at the camera. “We had a crap day,” he says bluntly. “Couldn’t go anywhere without being stalked by reporters so we decided to make a Q&A video to answer some of your more pressing questions so we can get on with our lives. Also, if you're one of those reporters who gave us hell just for trying to go to the post office, go BLEEP yourself.”

Peter startles. “Harley! No swearing!”

Harley looks at him, incredulous. “What? It's  _ YouTube _ . People swear in YouTube videos all the time… Right?”

Peter frowns down at the table, forehead creased with stress. “I… I don't remember. Maybe? Oh god, we're so unprepared for this.”

“It'll be fine.” Harley rolls his eyes and the two boys jostle as Harley bumps him with his knee. “I'm like 70% sure you're allowed to swear on YouTube.”

“I'm gonna go check." Peter gets up from the table and scurries out of frame while Harley sighs and slouches further in his chair.

There’s a cut in the video where an untold amount of time has passed and Harley is now leaned forward with one elbow propped on the table, chin in his hand, while he drums the fingers of his other hand against the wood. Peter’s chair remains empty. Suddenly, Harley sits up straight, looking beyond the camera.

"Are you watching Vine compilations?"

"Listening for swears!" Peter’s voice is distant.

"Oh my  God , Parker. I thought you were going to read the terms of use or BLEEP-ing  _ Google it _ or something."

"Oh, that's a good idea!"

Harley stares into the camera like he's on The Office.

Another jump cut and Harley’s slouched again, looking annoyed as his eyes follow something just beyond the frame. Peter shuffles into view and retakes his seat at the table.

"What took you so long?" Harley grumbles.

"It was a really good compilation, okay?" Peter says without looking at him.

"Are you-,” Harley rubs a hand over his mouth. “You're killing me. Just… what’s the verdict?"

"Depends.” Peter looks at him. “Do we care about making money?"

Harley blinks. "I actually forgot you could."

"Then swears are a go!"

"That's what I wanted to BLEEP-ing hear."

Peter hesitates. "…Maybe you should hold back a little though. So we don't alienate any listeners."

Harley sets his jaw and stares dead-eyed into the camera.

“We’ll edit all that out,” Peter says, folding his hands together on top of the table.

“Don’t you dare.” Harley points a stern finger at his face. “The world deserves to see how you make me suffer.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Fine, but I’m bleeping out the bad swears.”

“That’s 15 minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Harley complains.

Peter grins at him, crinkling his nose and Harley pulls a face in response before turning away so Peter can’t see the way his lips begin to curl.

Jump cut.

“Sorry about that everyone,” Peter says, hands fidgeting on the table in front of him. “Like I said, we’ll try to have more structure in future videos. Uh, we have some questions here that Harley put together for us. Oh God, I just realized I have no idea what questions you have.”

Harley shoots him a flat look. “I  _know_ how to make a list of questions. I can do this  _ one thing _ , calm down.” He picks up his phone and looks down at the screen as he speaks. “I think we’ll get the sexual ones out of the way firs-,”

“ _ What?! _ ” Peter yelps.

Harley laughs and reaches over and ruffles Peter’s hair. “It was a joke. C’mon, I got this.”

Peter relaxes minutely and watches Harley with a slight pout. “Not nice.”

“First question,” Harley says, “who is Peter Parker?”

Peter blinks at him. “Uh, me!”

“Question , two: Who is Harley Keener? That’s me.” He smirks like he can feel the dismay rolling off of Peter in waves.

“Are… Are all the questions like this? Let me… Let me see what you have.” Peter tries to grab Harley’s phone, but Harley dodges out of the way.

“They get better,” he says defensively. “I can’t help that that’s what the world wants to know about us.”

“But… we already introduced ourselves. I just wanna see what else you-,”

“Question three!” Harley says loudly, holding his phone up and away from Peter’s grabbing hands. “How did Peter Parker get his Stark Industries internship?”

Peter sits back in his seat with a huff. “Mr. Stark saw something in me, I guess. I dunno. He uh, he showed up at my apartment because I had, umm, applied for a grant from the September Foundation and I guess it caught his eye? You’d have to ask him how that happened because I honestly don’t know. All I know is that one day I’m dumpster diving for electronics and by that afternoon I’ve got an internship at Stark Industries.”

Harley is looking at him. “You used to like, climb inside dumpsters? On purpose?”

Peter looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “Uhh yep. That’s definitely a thing I used to do.”

“Oh my God, you  _still_ dumpster dive?” Harley asks, looking equal parts horrified and delighted.

Peter aims a pinched look at him. “Yeah, okay? I do. It’s not as bad as you’re thinking. Usually. As long as you keep an eye out for used needles and stay away from the restaurant ones then it’s not too gross. Usually.”

“ _ Needles? _ Wha- But why? You know Tony’ll foot the bill for anything you-,”

“It’s not about money.” Peter rolls his eyes and grows more animated as he continues. “You wouldn’t  believe  the stuff people throw away. It’s always fun to take things apart and make something new, but it’s  _really_ fun to give old things a second life and to go on a hunt to find the exact part you need to finish a project.”

A soft, fond look creeps across Harley’s face as he watches Peter talk but it's wiped away and replaced by raised eyebrows by the time Peter turns to look at him.

“I think it’s time for question four,” Peter says. Harley nods and looks down at his phone.

“Okay, this is an easy one. Where’s Harley Keener from?” He looks up at the camera. “Rose Hill, Tennessee,” he says, accent thick. “Hi Mama. Hi Abbie.”

Peter lights up and waves at the camera. “Hi Ms. Keener! Hi Abbie! I’ve heard so much about you and can’t wait to meet you someday!”

“Oh now you’ve done it.” Harley slumps in his seat. “Now they’re going to insist you come visit. Abbie’s already been giving me hell about wanting to meet you.”

“Oh,” Peter says, surprised. “That would be cool, actually. I’ve only been out of the city like twice. There was that one time with Mr. Stark, but that doesn’t really count because I didn’t get to like, go anywhere really. It was, uh, a business only kinda thing. And the other was a school field trip to DC.”

Harley stares at him. “Really? That's it? You’ve never been camping or anything?”

Peter shrugs.

There’s dead air for a solid three seconds before Harley shakes his head and lifts his phone. “We’ll circle back to that. Question five: How old is Peter Parker?”

“17. I graduate next week and I’ll turn 18 in August.”

“Did you skip a grade?” Harley asks. “I always wondered.”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. It’s a thing with August birthdays. You’re either the oldest kid in your year or the youngest. Why do I feel like I’m getting more questions than you?”

“I’m  _literally_ going back and forth. You get all the odd numbers and I get the even ones. It’s not my fault you’re an attention hog.”

“Whatever. I wanna read a question for you.” He makes grabby hands at the phone until Harley passes it over.

“Okay. Question six, right?”

“Yeah.”

Peter snorts. “There’s no way this is a real question people were asking about you.”

“I didn’t memorize the list, sweetheart,” Harley says dryly. “You’re gonna have to ask the question if you want an answer.”

“Does Harley Keener have a girlfriend?”

Harley grins. “That  _ was  _ a real question and the answer’s no. No boyfriend either.” He winks at the camera. Peter makes a face.

Then Peter straightens. “But you  did  meet someone at the post office today,” he blurts suddenly. “You swapped phone numbers.”

He stares at Harley imploringly until Harley rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah. He was real awkward about it. It was cute. Anyway, I think the next few questions are directed at both of us and the next one kinda ties into this one.”

Peter checks the list, muttering, “I thought you didn’t memorize it.” Harley ignores him.

“Okay, question seven. Are Harley Keener and Peter Parker dating?”

They glance at each other and then look away at the same time.

Peter laughs nervously. “It’s funny actually. We didn’t even like each other until last week when we, uh, got kidnapped.”

“We’d both made some assumptions that turned out to be wrong,” Harley says carefully. “But no, we’re not dating.”

Peter looks at him from the corner of his eye. “But we’re friends now… right?”

Harley shoves Peter’s shoulder lightly. “‘Course we are. Don’t be stupid.”

Peter smiles to himself, visibly relieved. “Just checking. Uh, question eight. Are Peter Parker and Harley Keener okay? Awww.” Peter looks up at Harley. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Harley says to Peter with a little smile. “Had a couple freak outs last week but I’m good now.”

Peter ducks his head to hide his smile and reads the next question. “Did Harley Keener and Peter Parker get rescued by Spider-Man?”

“Yes, we did,” Harley says, sitting up and grinning. “Swell dude, that Spider-Man. A real good egg.”

Peter stares at Harley with a funny look on his face. “Did you just say- There was a lot going on in your word choices there. I don’t even know where to start.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Parker. Spidey’s a good dude. A hero. I got a lot of respect for the guy, that’s all.”

Cheeks pink, Peter looks down at the phone. “Uh, final question.” Peter pauses. “Okay, there’s  _ no way _ anybody Googled this one.”

Harley smirks. “Yeah, I made that one up. Figured our last question should be a good one.”

“Is it? Is it a good one?”

“Yep. Read the question, Parker.”

Peter sighs and reads in a monotone, “Do you sing in the shower? Yeah, sometimes. Harley?”

“Sure do. Can’t beat the acoustics. Tell the good people what you sing, Pete.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “What do you know?”

Harley grins, all teeth. “Everything. Tell them, Peter. Tell them what you were singing a couple weeks ago after you blew up that poor Roomba.”

Peter shoots an injured look at Harley. “Don’t joke about Patricia. I still feel terrible. She was such a good girl.”

“Answer.”

“How do you even know about that? Have you been spying on me?”

Harley rolls his eyes. “The walls in the tower ain’t thin, but they ain't soundproof neither and my room is right next to the bathroom. Quit avoiding the question. Do you want me to tell them? I’d  _love_ to tell them.”

Peter throws up his arms in defeat and then slumps in his chair in full pout mode. He crosses his arms over his chest. “It was Little Einsteins which  _ slaps _ , okay? And it’s a meme so it’s totally normal and valid.”

Harley cackles and Peter kicks him under the table. “You’re not supposed to embarrass me on my own vlog.”

“ _ Our _ vlog. It’s ‘Interns’ plural, remember?”

“I’m gonna add an apostrophe before the ‘s’ and then you’ll just be the comedic relief.”

“I  _ am  _ pretty hilarious.”

“I was talking about your looks.”

“You little welp.” Harley throws an arm around Peter’s neck in an attempt to get him in a headlock, but Peter slips out of it and jabs Harley between the ribs with his finger, making him flinch away with an involuntary giggle.

“That’s all we have for tonight,” Peter says, louder than before. “The next one will be like, actually planned. I promise.” He swats away Harley’s hand as he tries to retaliate by tickling Peter’s ribs. “Cut it out. I’m trying to do the outro.”

“We have an outro?”

Peter shrugs. “We’ll workshop one for next time. Bye everyone! Say bye, Harley. Ooo, wait! Say something southern.”

“Why?”

“People like your accent.”

“ You like my accent.”

Peter shrugs, not denying it or bothering to hide the anticipatory grin on his lips. “Go on. Tell them to have a nice night.”

Harley rolls his eyes, but dutifully looks into the camera and says, “Have a nice night, y’all. ‘Til next time.”

Grinning widely, Peter stands and leans over the table to reach for the camera when, quick as a whip, Harley pokes him in the ribs.

“ _ Ack! _ ” Peter’s elbow slams into the tabletop as he flinches and the camera shakes. The video ends abruptly, cutting off as Harley cackles.

~*~

Despite the distraction of filming, editing, and posting their video, Harley hasn't forgotten about Peter's lapse into that quiet distant state earlier. So while he tells Peter he wants to stay the night so they can watch the first likes and comments roll in together, his primary motivation is to make sure he doesn't fall back into that place. Also, it's really cute how excited Peter is about the whole thing.

He shoots a quick text to Tony letting him know he's staying in Queens for the night and then tucks himself closer against Peter's back, arm curled around his chest and chin on his shoulder so he can read the comments on Peter’s phone while they lounge on the couch.

Peter scrolls quickly past a few short ones.

"Woah, back up. Did that one call me a stud?"

"Nah, I think it said  ' _ dud _ ' actually."

"You know, you should be nicer to me while you're in such a delicate position," Harley warns, his fingers dancing lightly along Peter's ribs.

Peter gasps and wiggles, trying to escape without having to actually roll to the floor. "Don't don't don't! I'll be nice!"

"That's what I thought," Harley says, settling back in.

They fall asleep and miss the moment they go viral.

~*~

It’s still dark when Harley wakes up to Peter slipping out from under his arm. It takes him a long moment to recognize the sound of a phone vibrating somewhere on the floor.

“Hello?” Peter says in a hushed tone. “Is everything okay? It’s 3 am.”

Harley sits up. Peter glances his way and bites his lip as Tony’s voice filters through the phone, recognizable but unintelligible to Harley’s ears.

“I… Mr. Stark we were just… We just didn’t think to… It wasn’t a secret! We were gonna tell you, I swear! We just got caught up in it I guess.”

“Is he mad?” Harley asks quietly.

Peter shrugs and makes a so-so hand gesture. “Honest, Mr. Stark we just had a long day and I had the idea to… I thought we did pretty good! How could the media twist any of that against us?”

“You want me to talk to him?” Harley asks. Peter shakes his head and sits on the couch beside him with a silent sigh.

The conversation only lasts a short while longer before Tony apparently finishes having his say, hardly letting Peter get a word in edgewise, and they hang up.

“He pissed?” Harley asks.

Peter shrugs. “I don’t think so. Just worried. Uh, apparently we went viral and he’s kinda freaking out thinking the paparazzi are gonna be more interested in us now.”

“Really? We’re viral?” Harley asks.

A grin slowly blooms on Peter’s face and he meets Harley’s eyes. “Yeah. He said we crashed YouTube. How cool is that?”

“Holy shit. We should check the vlog.”

They stare at the climbing numbers in silent disbelief. Then Peter jumps to his feet and whirls to face Harley, bouncing with excitement.

“Holy crap! This is the coolest thing ever!”

“ _So_ cool,” Harley agrees, an almost painfully wide grin stretching across his lips.

Peter puts his hands on his head and does a little spin on his heels. “I can’t believe this. We’re halfway to a million subscribers, Harley!” His exclaims, voice hoarse as he tries to shout and whisper at the same time. “That’s… This is insane!”

“I know, I know,” Harley says, standing up. He taps Peter’s chest with his index finger as he says, “And that’s how many we got  _ overnight _ . Think how many more we’re gonna get when people wake up in the morning and see it.”

Peter’s mouth forms a silent ‘O’ and he does a weird little dance like he’s running in place. “You’re right. You’re so right! Oh my God. We should celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” Harley parrots with an indulgent smile. “In what way?”

“I dunno. Should we put up another video? Like a thank you for half a million subscribers or something?”

“Already? I feel like we should wait at least a day or something before we record something new.”

Peter deflates. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right.”

Call him soft, but Harley doesn’t like being the one to poke holes in Peter’s happiness. “What if we post something else though?”

Peter looks up. “What d’you mean?”

Harley shrugs, fighting off a smirk. “I was going to post a recording of us playing Mario Kart on my Instagram but I never got around to it. I’ve got the video on my phone. It just needs cleaned up.”

Peter’s face lights up briefly but then he narrows his eyes at Harley. “You just want to show off.”

Harley grins. “Maybe. People will like it though.”

Peter purses his lips thoughtfully. “Fine, but we’re not posting the Banana Cup footage. That was bullshit.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “No shit.”

They decide to wait until morning to post the video which leaves them four hours of waiting and too much energy to get back to sleep. They kill an hour editing the video (there are a lot of swears to bleep out) and upload it to YouTube as ‘Private’ so all they need to do is flip it to ‘Public’ when they’re ready to post. Then they put on a movie and get to work on Tony’s birthday present while munching on leftover sandwiches.

“Why does this one look so shitty?” Peter asks, holding up a small rectangle of hot pink construction paper. The picture glued to it is of Harley and Peter with their heads thrown back, laughing obnoxiously while Bucky and Sam stare at them in confusion in the background. It’s outlined with blue puff paint and there are yellow puff paint hearts filling the rest of the open space around the picture, only everything is slightly… squished. The lines are wobbly and veer onto the picture randomly before swerving back to the edge and the whole thing is coated in purple glitter.

Harley smirks. “I did that one left-handed.”

“Why?” Peter asks, bemused.

Harley shrugs. “So it’d look like a little kid made it.”

Peter shakes his head and gives up on his questioning which is good because Harley’s not really sure how to explain that he genuinely thinks Tony will like it. Whether he admits it or not, he basically adopted him and Peter and because they’re already practically grown he missed out on over a decade of shitty handmade gifts. Harley’s just making up for lost time. Tony’s probably going to cry and never take it down.

At a quarter past seven, May slumps in through the door and stops in her tracks, taking in the swatches of colored paper laying about all over the floor and the two teenage boys sitting in the middle of it, glitter in their hair and streaks of colored paint on their cheeks.

“Hey Aunt May!” Peter chirps. “How was work?”

“Fine,” she says, distracted. “Morning Harley.”

“Morning, Ms. Parker. Sorry about the mess.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve seen worse… I think. You boys are up early.”

“Oh uh, yeah I guess we are,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and causing a cascade of glitter to rain down over his face and around his shoulders. He goes cross-eyed looking at his nose as it sparkles. Harley snorts and reaches over to swipe the glitter off the bridge of his nose and accidentally leaves behind a streak of yellow paint. Peter grins at him in thanks.

May finally seems to shake off her surprise and closes the door behind her, locks it, and begins carefully making her way around their mess. “This is quite the project you boys have going.”

“It’s gonna be Mr. Stark’s birthday present,” Peter says, nearly vibrating where he’s sitting like he wants to get up and bounce around but is trapped by the dozens of still drying pictures.

May looks around at the mess with newfound appreciation. She smiles and says, “He’s gonna love it. Are these going in an album or-?”

“We’re going to hang them from the ceiling of the lab in strings,” Harley says.

“Yeah, like we’ll have pipe cleaners connecting them top to bottom in chains and make a whole wall of them,” Peter adds. “D’you- Is it okay if we keep working on it here over the next week or so?”

“Of course,” May says. “It’ll be nice to have you boys around more often.”

“Thanks May.”

“I was going to have some breakfast before I go to bed. You boys hungry?”

“I could go for food,” Peter says, to no one’s surprise.

“Yeah, same,” Harley agrees.

“Sounds like a plan. While you extract yourselves from all that I’ll run down the street for omelets. Sound good?”

They agree and she leaves, letting them figure out how to get out of the living room.

“I think we just live like this now,” Harley says, looking around at the photos covering every inch of carpet in a five-foot radius around them. “We’ll have to pee in plastic bottles and sleep sitting up.”

“You will, maybe,” Peter says, carefully getting to his feet. Then, to Harley’s shock, he leaps straight up and sticks his hands to the ceiling. He folds himself up until he gets his footing and then spider crawls across the ceiling into the kitchen where he drops down lightly on the balls of his feet.

“You’re a little shit. You know that, right?”

Peter shrugs with a small smile and then pointedly sits at the table and watches him. Harley huffs and reevaluates his predicament. There’s a clear patch where Peter had been sitting. If he can get to his feet without putting his hand in anything then he can step into Peter’s spot and from there hop onto the couch and then go over the back of it into the kitchen.

He rises to his feet with a wobble, but doesn’t squish anything and then takes a large step into Peter’s clearing and leaps before he can over-think it. He teeters on the edge of the cushion but Peter leans over the back of the couch and grabs his forearm to pull him back up. From there it’s easy to lever himself over the back and to safety.

“Not bad,” Peter says, grinning.

“Shut up. Not all of us have superpowers.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Peter tisks.

Harley pokes him in the ribs and Peter retaliates and from there it devolves into a tickle fight that only breaks up when May returns and tells them to tone it down. She could hear them giggling from in the hall. Harley grins breathlessly at her and, after swatting away Peter’s last-ditch effort to get another shot at his ribs, offers to set the table. She and Peter trade a look that clearly says, _‘_ _ This is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen .’ _

“Sure,” May says aloud. “That would be super helpful.”

After scouring the kitchen for food the night before, he’s got a pretty good idea of what’s where so he doesn’t have any trouble finding everything. He gets out three plates, glasses, and forks and sets them out on the small table while Peter watches him with a funny look on his face and May unpacks the styrofoam containers from a plastic sack. May and Peter trade another look and then May starts sliding omelets out of the containers and onto the plates while Peter gets a jug of apple juice out of the fridge and starts pouring it into the glasses.

They all sit down, but no one picks up a fork. May is biting her lip, clearly trying to hide her smile while Peter is looking down at the spread on the table, openly grinning.

“What?” Harley finally asks, exasperated.

May giggles. “Nothing sweetie. This all looks great.”

“It’s just…” Peter starts and then trails off, shaking his head. “I dunno. I feel so fancy.”

May laughs and picks up her fork, cutting into her omelet with relish. “We usually eat out of styrofoam containers with flimsy plastic silverware while sitting on the couch. This is a nice change is all. We’ll have to do it more often.” She winks at Harley, a clearly implied ‘ _ with you _ ’ tacked onto the end of her sentence.

Embarrassed, Harley ducks his head and picks up his fork as well. “My ma likes to make it feel like a traditional family meal no matter where the food comes from.”

“That’s wonderful,” May says. “I can’t say we’ll pick up the habit for every meal, but I mean it when I say it’s a nice change. Thanks for doing this for us.”

Harley looks up to find her smiling not only kindly, but with that same earnest quality that Peter has and he can’t help but feel put at ease. “You’re welcome.”

From there the topic changes to what their plans for the day are. Harley hadn’t thought that far ahead, but apparently Peter has the day pretty much mapped out so that’s fine.

“Spider-Man needs to make an appearance,” he says through a mouthful of eggs. “I haven’t been out since Thursday and I don’t want criminals getting too comfortable. And later me, Ned, and MJ are supposed to meet up for some last-minute review before our Spanish final tomorrow.”

“You feeling pretty good about your finals?” May asks.

Peter shrugs. “Yeah I think so. Spanish is going to be the hardest I think. It’s one of the only cumulative ones along with Physics, Chem, and Calc. If World History was cumulative I’d probably be a lot more freaked out. So much memorizing.”

May reaches over and ruffles his hair. “You’re gonna do great. I’m so,  so  proud of you.”

Peter ducks his head with a soft smile.

“What about you Harley?” May asks, taking a bite and looking at him with a kind but expectant expression. “Any plans?”

“Uhh. I dunno. I guess I’ve got a project I could finish in the lab. The engineering team broke one of their machines so Tony’s having me fix it. Oh and we’ve gotta post that Mario Kart video,” he says to Peter.

Peter lights up. “Oh yeah! We’re  _ famous _ ,” he tells May.

“You’ve been famous for a while now, sweetie,” she says with a patronizing pat to his head.

Peter ducks away from her hand. “No, like  _internet_ famous. We made a YouTube channel and posted our first video last night and it went viral.”

May blinks in surprise and looks back and forth between the pair. “Wow. Alright. I didn’t know this was something you’d been thinking about. Was this Tony’s idea?”

“Uh, no,” Harley says, putting down his glass while Peter shakes his head emphatically, mouth too full to speak. “He’s a little pissed about it actually.”

Peter swallows. “We just kind of did it spur of the moment, so he only found out when it went viral and called me at like 3 am to chew me out for not talking to him about it first.”

May’s expression clears. “Ah, I’m guessing you didn’t go back to sleep after, hence all of this.” She waves her fork at the living room.

Peter grins sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry.”

May spears another bite on her fork and points it threateningly at Peter and then Harley. “New plan. You’re both taking a nap.”

Peter opens his mouth, clearly about to argue.

“No,” May says. “No Spider-Man until you’re fully rested. I’m not going through another two days of you sleeping off broken bones and stab wounds and- and God knows what else because you were tired and it made you sloppy. Sleep first. Spider-Man after.”

Peter sighs. “Yeah okay. I do feel a little tired.”

May shoots him a look that says, _‘_ _ That’s what I thought _ _,’_ and finishes her omelet.

“Well I’m off to bed. You boys make sure you get your crafts picked up after your nap.” She giggles at the sentence.

“We will,” Harley promises while Peter nods, his mouth once again full.

May smiles at him and says, “It was good to see you. You’re welcome here anytime, okay honey?”

Harley grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

She stands and presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Be safe.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

She walks carefully around the surge of photos and goes into her room, shutting the door behind her. Harley and Peter scarf down the rest of their meal and when they’re done, Harley collects the dishes and takes them to the sink where he begins rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher.

“Uh, you don’t have to do that,” Peter says, hovering awkwardly.

“I don’t mind,” Harley says. He hadn’t even thought about it. It’d been reflex. He always takes care of the dishes after the family meal. For a moment, he pictures what it must be like back home without him there. In his head, Ma and Abbie sit alone at the too-big dining room table and Harley’s place across from Abbie sits empty. Who washes the dishes after? Does Abbie do them now? Does she resent Harley for leaving her that extra chore? Or does Mama do them after washing other people’s dishes at the diner all day?

He shoves the thought away. He was always gonna leave someday. It’s part of growing up and no one resents him for it. Still, he misses home like he’d miss a limb. He loves being here. For the first time in his life, he’s surrounded by people who think like him and he loves getting to build and create as much as he wants with virtually no limitations, but Rose Hill is  home  and ma and Abbie are a part of him. He thinks there will always be a part of him that misses it.

“Here.” Peter takes the plate from his hands and puts it in the dishwasher then stands expectantly, waiting for the next dish.

Harley swirls a glass under the faucet and passes it to him and Peter puts it in the dishwasher. They finish the dishes in no time and then stand awkwardly in the kitchen.

“So uh, nap time I guess,” Peter says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at Harley out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” Harley agrees. The couch is still surrounded by photos coated in wet puff paint and isn’t really an option so he follows Peter to his bedroom and tries not to feign nonchalance. It’s one thing to cuddle on the couch and fall asleep. It’s a whole other thing to sleep together in a bed inside a bedroom. It feels deliberate and… intimate.

He walks into Peter’s bedroom and stops. “Bunk bed?”

Biting his lip, Peter shrugs. “Yeah. I always wanted one and it’s nice to have when Ned stays over and stuff.”

“Oh,” Harley says. He pushes at the disappointment he feels bubbling up in his chest.  _ Get a grip, Keener. You were literally just freaking out about having to share a bed and now you’re bummed out that you aren’t going to? _

Peter’s still watching him. “I uh… I have a lot of stuff up there right now but I can clear it off. If you want me to, that is.”

Harley’s gonna get whiplash if he keeps ping-ponging between emotions like this. Mouth dry, he shrugs. “I’d hate to make you move all of your stuff.”

Peter grins, something like relief in his face and Harley feels himself relax. It’s just Peter. What is he freaking out about? They’re friends. It’s totally normal for friends to nap together.

He’s pretty sure.

Probably.

Right?

They have a brief argument about whether or not a nap warrants changing into pajama pants and next thing Harley knows, he’s wearing a pair of soft red flannel pajamas while Peter sports a fluffy pink pair of Hello Kitty pants. He raises an eyebrow.

“Mr. Stark bought them for me as a joke,” he explains. “But they’re actually-,”

“Super comfy?” Harley finishes for him with a smirk. “You said the same thing about the Spider-Man slippers.”

“Because it’s true!” Peter says, hopping onto the bottom bunk and scooting towards the wall to make space. “I can’t help it that Mr. Stark is accidentally really good at giving me presents.”

Harley laughs and crawls onto the bed. He lays down on his back and Peter’s still grinning at him as he pulls the blanket up around their shoulders. For an instant that paralyzing discomfort from earlier is back.  _ This is Peter’s bed in Peter’s bedroom in Peter’s home where he lives. _ But then Peter wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him across the bed until Harley’s shoulder is pressed against his chest and he remembers to breathe. It’s still just Peter.

Peter whose breath smells like eggs.

Harley turns onto his side and Peter doesn’t waste a second before glomming onto his back like the mutualistic parasite he secretly is and wraps him up in his arms. Harley buries a smile into the pillow and lets himself relax, eventually falling asleep to the feeling of Peter’s thumb subconsciously rubbing back and forth along his collarbone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and happy Wednesday! I hope you enjoyed your weekly fluff ration. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! You sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated (◠︿◠✿)


	8. Is this normal first date behavior?

~ ** Peter ** ~

Peter slings a web onto a nearby building and hauls himself up and away from the gaggle of grateful children whose ball he just rescued from the storm drain.

“Anything new pop up, Karen?” he asks, shooting another web and sliding into the familiar build-up of momentum until he’s positively flying.

Web swinging used to scare the daylights out of him for the first month or so after he got the web formula worked out, but he figured if he’s going to be the sole practitioner of web-based travel, then he ought to be an expert. After a lot of practice, it stopped being scary. Now it’s a rush and one of his favorite parts of being Spider-Man. So it’s with expert precision and a whoop of delight that he whips around a corner, leaps a billboard, and slips right back into his rhythm.

“No, but you do have a text from Ned indicating he’s on his way to your apartment,” Karen says. “Perhaps you should head back.”

“Hmmm,” Peter considers. “When did the text come in?”

“Two minutes and sixteen seconds ago.”

“Aww we’ve got time to go check in on Corona then. It’ll take him at least 20 minutes on the subway.”

That decided, he picks up the pace. Before the night is through, he successfully stops a carjacking, a purse snatcher, and helps an older gentleman collect his newspaper from his roof where someone threw it. The old man gives him the comics page as a thank you and then Peter’s off, racing back to Forest Hills.

When he gets there, Ned’s only been waiting for ten minutes which is better than his average fifteen-minute tardiness  and  his backpack was still in the alley where he left it so it’s shaping up to be a pretty good night.

“Hey man,” Peter says, hustling down the hall where Ned is sitting with his back leaned against Peter’s apartment door, phone in his hands.

“Hey,” Ned says, looking up, face neutral. “MJ said she’d be a little late. Something about her older sister being a drama queen.”

“Uh okay,” Peter says, thrown by Ned’s lack-luster greeting. “You okay? You seem… off.”

Ned shrugs and gets to his feet, hauling his overstuffed backpack onto his shoulder. “It’s finals week of senior year. Even the strongest of men are allowed to feel burnt out.”

Peter grins and knocks him in the shoulder. “We’ll get each other through it and then we get a whole summer to slack off.”

A sharp spike of unease twists in Peter’s gut at the reminder of what awaits him after this summer. College. He’s not worried about the workload or the difficulty level. He isn’t worried about the social aspect either. He’s not even worried about money. What he’s trying to keep from eating him alive is that they’re all going to be at different colleges in different  _ states _ . He’s scared to death that he’s going to drift apart from his best friends. The thought that this might be their last summer together makes him want to be sick.

Him, Ned, and MJ have been inseparable since MJ cornered Peter halfway through sophomore year and informed him that she’d figured out he was Spider-Man and if he wanted to keep his identity a secret then he’d let her give him lying lessons. The lessons never stuck, but MJ did. Before that, him and Ned had been best friends since freshman year when they both converged on Midtown Tech.

But next year… Next year Ned’s going to MIT in Massachusetts, MJ’s going all the way to California to attend Stanford and Peter… well, Peter’s sticking to New York, much to Mr. Stark’s dismay. He’d really been hoping either Peter or Harley would follow in his footsteps and go to MIT. Instead, they’re both going to Cooper Union, located right in Manhattan, only minutes from Queens and his duties as Spider-Man and practically just down the street from the tower so he can live there instead of trying to keep up a secret identity while living on campus.

At the time, he’d been annoyed that Harley had not only piggy-backed on his idea, but that he’d also been accepted into the tiny college. Now that they’re friends, he’s ecstatic. He hadn’t been looking forward to being alone at college or having to start over making friends and hiding Spider-Man from them. As far as Peter’s concerned, it’s all worked out perfectly… except for the part where Ned and MJ won’t be there.

The two boys tromp into the apartment and start pulling out their notes and reference materials. It’s not that Spanish is hard, it just doesn’t come as naturally to Peter as science and math so he finds that if he doesn’t study outside of class then his grades slip. It’s a pain, but it could be worse. After tomorrow, he’ll never have to take another Spanish class again so that’s something to look forward to.

When MJ arrives, she sweeps into the apartment speaking in a flurry of Spanish before she’s even through the door. It takes Peter’s brain a second to switch tracks and understand that she’s telling him and Ned that they’re going to spend the evening speaking only in Spanish and she’s not going to put up with any English. She waves a squirt bottle threateningly.

They get through the night and he feels more confident in his Spanish but he can’t help but notice that Ned seems normal with MJ but distant with him. Dread settles in his gut. They’re already drifting apart and he has no idea how to stop it.

** ~*~ **

Peter spends the week cramming for finals, taking said finals, taking to the streets as Spider-Man, and then cramming for the next test. It makes him feel good to get out and help people during a part of the day when that wouldn’t normally be an option for him. Ned connects remotely to his suit and is his Guy in the Chair more often than not and it’s nice having company. He also acts like his usual self towards Peter and it’s a huge relief. Maybe Sunday night he really was just feeling burnt out and Peter was imagining that he was treating him differently?

Unfortunately, there isn’t that much crime happening at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday and he can only help so many old people cross the street in a given day before he loses his mind. So he finds himself hanging out with Harley more often than before: walking around and talking animatedly about the best place to get sandwiches in Queens, taking a drive out of the city in one of Mr. Stark’s cars, or cooped up at Peter’s apartment, painstakingly stringing together photos for their project for Mr. Stark. So far they have about half a wall worth hanging in Peter’s bedroom.

Luckily, while they’re out and about they don’t run into any reporters. The media seems to be satiated by the YouTube videos they posted over the weekend. The Mario Kart video blew up even bigger than the Q&A and Mr. Stark threatened to post the Banana Cup footage on his Twitter but so far hasn’t made good on the threat.

Peter’s already planned out the next video and Harley agreed to film it with him later in the week so they can post it on Saturday again. They figure if they keep to a routine so people know when to expect content then they won’t end up in a paparazzi feeding frenzy like before.

It’s Thursday when MJ insists that Peter introduce her and Ned to Harley. They’re over at Peter’s apartment hanging out and he guesses he’s been talking about Harley a lot more than he used to. Not to mention the whole school’s been talking about their kidnapping and now their YouTube channel. Weirdly, Ned and MJ haven’t brought up the YouTube thing so he isn’t sure if they care. Judging by MJ’s hard, no-nonsense stare and the way Ned avoids looking him in the eye, he gets the feeling he might have fucked up by not taking the initiative in introducing them sooner.

Under MJ’s watchful eyes, Peter shoots a text to Harley.

Peter 4:48 pm

_ Wanna come hang out with me Ned and MJ at my place? I guess they want to meet you haha _

Harley 4:56 pm

_ Sure. _

That single text gives Peter an unbelievable amount of anxiety. Why did it take him almost ten minutes to send a single word answer? Why the non-committal ‘sure’? What the fuck is up with that  _ period? _

Peter starts typing an anxiety-riddled reply telling him he absolutely doesn’t have to come over if he doesn’t want to and that they can definitely meet some other time or never if Harley prefers but MJ snatches his phone out of his hands, checks Harley’s response, and puts Peter’s phone in her pocket.

“Cool. You can have your phone back later. I assume he knows how to get here on his own since you filmed your Q&A here.”

She says it with a perfectly neutral face. She doesn’t look the slightest bit annoyed or upset but Ned hunches in on himself and turns to look out the window.

“I- Are you guys upset about that? Me and Harley doing the vlog thing, I mean,” Peter asks, wringing his hands.

MJ quirks an eyebrow. “Why would we be upset, Peter?”

_ Oh no. _

“I dunno, I just… I don’t want you to feel left out and I know Mr. Stark got annoyed that we didn’t tell him first and I don’t know if you guys are annoyed that I didn’t tell you about it, but it was honestly a thing we just decided to do last minute and so we didn’t tell  anyone . I wasn’t trying to keep you out of it, I swear.”

“We’re not annoyed,” MJ says but Peter doesn’t feel relieved. The way she says it leaves a lot of room for other emotions that may not be good ones. Like we’re not annoyed we’re… hurt?

He looks at Ned and he still won’t meet his eyes.

He thinks about how weird he’s been acting when he’s around Peter. He doesn’t seem to have an issue with acting normally with MJ or while Peter’s being Spider-Man, but when it’s just Peter it’s like he can’t think of anything to say. Or maybe the things he’s thinking aren’t things he wants to say.

He thinks about how he would feel if Ned and MJ started hanging out with someone new and didn’t invite him along or even bother to introduce him to them. Especially someone they’d hated two weeks ago. He thinks about how shitty it would feel if they made a video together and it got super popular, to the point where it was all anyone at school would talk about, and how it would feel to have it shoved in his face every day that they did this cool thing without even telling him about it or acknowledging it after the fact.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up, didn’t I?” he says, looking down at his hands.

“You did,” MJ says simply. Peter winces and his heart drops into his stomach. “But you can make it up to us by telling us all about what happened when you got kidnapped and everything that happened after that. And then,” she adds, “you need to confess your feelings for this Harley dude.”

Peter and Ned nearly give themselves whiplash as they snap their heads up to stare at MJ. Peter’s face is burning and he can tell by the satisfied smirk now gracing MJ’s face that’s he’s blushing magnificently.

“W-what? Feelings? I don’t- I don’t have any feelings! We’re friends! I mean, I hated him two weeks ago! I don’t- I couldn’t have- There’s no feelings!”

“Mhmm. A common trope. A little overdone some might say,” MJ says, unmoved by Peter’s frantic stuttering.

“Oh my God,” Ned says. “Are you in love with him?”

“What?! Nonononono. Ned, not you too. Why would you say  _ love? _ I just… We get along now, okay?”

“Then what’s with the shrine in your room?” MJ asks.

“Shrine? There’s no-,” he glances at his room where he can clear as day see Mr. Stark’s birthday present hanging in streamers all around his desk and the far wall. Mr. Stark’s birthday present which comprises of a bunch of pictures of him and Harley with their faces nearly touching and lots of glitter and hearts and pink.

Ned stumbles forward to get a better look. “Holy shit. You’re totally in love.”

“Oh my God that’s not- That’s Mr. Stark’s birthday present! It’s a  _ joke! _ We’re not- I’m not in love with- You’ve gotta stop saying that. Oh my God, he’s on his way here right now. Gimme… Gimme my phone back. I gotta tell him not to come.”

“Not happening.”

If Peter wasn’t desperate before, he is now. “You guys can’t say anything to him. Please, don’t tell him.”

“So you admit it, then,” MJ says smirking in a terrible, self-satisfied way.

“No!”

She raises her eyebrows while Ned mutters under his breath, “Peter’s in love. Peter’s in  love .”

“It’s not  _ love! _ It’s- God, fine! It’s- Okay, so I have a crush on- on- But you  _can’t_ say anything to him! Swear to me you won’t!”

“I can keep a secret, Parker,” MJ says almost looking offended that Peter would doubt her.

In unison, they turn to face Ned. He collapses onto the couch, eyes unfocused. “I can’t believe Peter’s in love.”

“Ned, Ned please.” Peter rushes over and drops to his knees in front of Ned. He grabs Ned’s face between his hands and forces him to focus on him. “Ned, you can’t tell him. This is a  secret . You have to keep this a secret or my soul will literally leave my body to escape the humiliation. Do you want the murder of your best friend on your conscience? You don’t. You  gotta  keep this a secret, man. Please?”

Ned stares at him, mouth open and cheeks smooshed between Peter’s palms. Eventually, he nods.

Peter sighs in relief and drops his hands from Ned’s face.

“You’re gonna have to do a better job than you do at keeping Spider-Man a secret,” MJ says.

Ned looks offended. “I do a great job keeping Spider-Man a secret.”

Peter groans and flops back onto the floor with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. He is so screwed.

Over the next half hour, Peter tells them everything. He goes through the kidnapping and his Spider-Man reveal to Harley and then the after-kidnapping. He reluctantly tells them about getting shot and how Harley insisted on making a tourniquet even though Peter would have been  _ totally fine  _ walking back to the tower without one. He tells them about how Harley had his back when everyone was being all worried afterward and how they fell asleep together watching Stranger Things.

He tells them about stealing eggs from the Avengers and almost setting Harley on fire. He tells them about getting a tiny bit hurt being Spider-Man and how Harley robbed the med bay at the tower when Peter’s glue wouldn’t hold his skin together and how they shared Harley’s Chinese food and goofed off until it was time for Peter to go. He tells them about Harley driving him home and then about their failed trip to the post office two days later and then their successful, but exhausting trip the day after that. He tells them about their idea for Mr. Stark’s birthday gift and how Peter can’t lie to Mr. Stark so they’re working on it here.

Finally, he tells them about the vlog and how he begged Harley to do it with him and how they’ve been able to hang out in public all week without being stalked thanks to it.

“Wow,” MJ says from where she’s laying on the floor with her arms folded behind her head and her feet propped up on the couch beside Ned who is staring at Peter, open-mouthed. “Your life is way more like a fanfic than I’d thought.”

“Shut up it is not,” Peter says weakly, still sprawled across the floor. He feels better after laying it all out there. He hadn’t realized how much he was keeping from his friends, even if it was unintentional. He feels good knowing they’re all on the same page now.

“The fluffiest schmoopiest fanfic,” MJ says gravely.

“Shut up!” Peter says. He snags a throw pillow and flings it at her. She catches it and tucks it under her head.

“Thanks Parker.”

“You’re totally in love,” Ned says.

Peter groans. “ Stop saying I’m in love with Harley,” he whines.

There’s a knock on the door and Peter goes completely still as he panics. There’s no way it’s anyone other than Harley. Oh God. Why did he say what he just said? Why did he say it so loud? What if Harley heard him? Oh fuck, what if Harley only heard the last part? Oh he’s so dead. He’s going to die. He’s going to sink through the floor and straight into hell.

He’s so busy spiraling into hysterics that he misses his chance to stop MJ as she rolls to her feet and marches for the door. She yanks it open and stands in the doorway, tipping her head to the side as she looks Harley up and down.

Harley, with a stack of pizza boxes in his hands and a smile on his lips, says, “Hi, you must be MJ? Peter’s told me a lot about you and I am suitably terrified.”

“Hm,” MJ says and maybe it’s his imagination, but Peter thinks it sounds approving. She steps aside, letting him into the apartment, and locks the door behind him. Harley gives Peter a funny look, probably for laying on the floor and staring up at him all wide-eyed instead of saying hi, and sets the pizzas on the coffee table.

“You good?” Harley asks him.

“No,” Peter whines.

Harley smiles. “Well, I brought plenty of food if you want to drown your sorrows in grease and carbs.”

Peter  is  pretty hungry and the pizza smells  _really_ good. His stomach growls.

Harley snorts. “Predictable.” He rolls his eyes but his lips curl into a fond smile.

“Holy shit,” Ned says under his breath.

Harley turns to face him and behind his back, Peter stares wide-eyed and makes the zipper motion over his lips and then presses his hands together in prayer. Ned is looking between Peter and Harley with his mouth open. Fuck. Peter is so  _so_ screwed.

“You’re Ned, right?” Harley asks. “The Guy in the Chair?”

Ned stares until Peter kicks his foot.

“I uh, yeah! He told you that?” he asks.

“‘Course I did. Spider-Man’s nothing without his Guy in the Chair.” It’s not technically the truth, but it’s worth the fib for the way Ned lights up and also for the distraction it provides.

MJ drops a stack of paper plates on the coffee table and Peter finally levers himself off the floor so he can stress eat as much pizza as his body can hold. He opens the first box to find Canadian bacon with pineapple and gasps in delight.

“Oh no way!” He heaps four slices onto his plate. “I thought you said you’d chop off your own arm before you’d spend money on hot fruit garbage.”

“It was a necessary evil,” Harley says, rearranging the pizza boxes so the pineapple is on the bottom of the stack, “and a strategic distraction to make sure there’s plenty of taco for the rest of us.”

He opens the next box and reveals a taco pizza.

“Wha- No fair!” Peter says, mouth full.

MJ snorts and grabs two slices. “Alright, you can keep him,” she says to Peter who immediately blushes. He reaches for a slice of taco pizza and gets his hand slapped away.

“Finish your plate first,” Harley says.

Peter crams the rest of his slice into his mouth and glares at him defiantly. Harley raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. He grabs a few slices and a couple hot sauce packets and sits on the couch. Peter regrets his rash decision to stuff his face when Ned, while peaking at the other two pizzas, starts asking Harley questions about living in the tower and if he’s ever seen Captain America in his underwear or if he’s met Thor yet.

Peter chews furiously, desperate to get his voice back while Harley answers Ned’s questions with a bemused smile and MJ watches all three of them with the kind of happy grin she only gets when witnessing the suffering of man.

Finally, Peter swallows and manages to steer the conversation into the relatively safe waters of school. It’s boring, sure, but it’s  _ safe _ _._ He finishes his pizza in record time and snatches up two slices of taco pizza and four hot sauce packets and globs it all on before taking a large bite. He sighs in satisfaction and sits on the floor across from Harley with his back against the coffee table.

“That’s disgusting. How do you even taste the pizza?” Harley asks.

Peter shrugs and wipes some sauce off his cheek with the back of his hand then licks it off. “Me and May get Thai food all the time. This is nothing.”

Harley doesn’t look convinced. “I’ve never had Thai anything before, but I’ve heard it’s pretty spicy.”

“What?” Peter says through a fresh mouthful. “Never?”

Harley shoots him a look. “Small town, remember? We’ve got a McDonald's and a gas station that does pretty good pizza and that’s it. We’ve gotta drive 50 miles just to get to  _ Walmart _ _._ Besides, whoever owned the place would have to put up with a whole town of racist bullshit. We had this Hispanic family who opened up a little taco place and they shut down and left town after a month.”

“Sounds shitty,” Ned says. “No good food  and  the people suck?” He shakes his head. “What’s the point?”

Harley catches his eye. “You don’t even know. Half the town still has dial-up.”

“What?!” Peter and Ned exclaim.

“No,” MJ says, horrified.

“How is that even possible?” Ned asks.

“It’s like the dark ages there and no one wants to change. I talked my ma into letting Tony set us up with fiber optic and the whole town treated us like devil worshipers for  _ months .” _

“That’s so wild,” Peter says, in awe.

“It’s fucking crazy, Peter,” Ned says. “Call it like it is. It’s  _fucking_ crazy.”

Harley nods sagely. “It is fucking crazy.”

Peter nudges Harley’s foot with his own. “You should come over next time me and May get Thai. I’ll text you.”

“Yeah? Okay.” He hesitates. “How spicy is it? Actually,” he glances at Peter’s hot sauce drenched pizza, “I don’t think I can trust your judgment.”

“That’s fair,” Peter says and takes another bite.

Harley grimaces and looks away. “My mouth hurts just watching you.”

Peter laughs which leads to a choking fit while everyone laughs at him. He spits his mouthful back onto his plate because it’s a choice between that or dying and everyone’s laughter turns into shouts of disgust. MJ throws a napkin at his face.

They spend the next few hours chatting and laughing. At one point they put in  A New Hope , but they don’t watch it beyond a few moments at a time before they get swept up into the next topic of conversation. Peter manages to keep Ned distracted enough that he doesn’t spill the beans about Peter’s crush and Harley seems like he fits right in. He’s so so grateful for his amazing friends and their immediate inclusion of Harley into their group despite the past months of Peter complaining about his new lab-mate.

He’s clearing up their mess from the pizza while Ned and MJ get their shoes on when Harley says, “I still think it needs more glitter.”

Peter looks up to find him leaning in the doorway of Peter’s room, his head tipped to the side as he takes in their progress on Mr. Stark’s birthday present.

Peter sighs and dumps a pile of paper plates in the trash. “I think $20 worth of glitter is enough,” he says.

“It’s not gaudy enough,” Harley complains. “It needs something else.”

“Well whatever it needs, it isn’t glitter. There’s already going to be glitter in every crevice of my room for the rest of eternity. I keep finding it  _ on me _ _._ In  _ places _ _._ Places it should never  _ be .” _

Harley turns and grins at him while Ned snickers and looks around Harley at the strings of photos hanging limply from the ceiling.

“How’s it gonna be set up? He’s not gonna come here for it, right?” Ned asks.

“No we’re gonna put it in the lab,” Harley says.

“Yeah, it’ll hang from the ceiling and take up a wall so it’s out of the way, but like… obnoxious.”

“It needs something big,” MJ says. She’s standing behind Ned with her arms crossed. “Everything you’ve got is intricately detailed, but from a distance, it doesn’t draw you in.”

“Something big,” Harley echoes, stepping back to stand beside her to see what she sees.

“Why not just blow up a huge photo and hang it in the middle?” Ned says.

“It should be a picture of the three of you,” MJ says.

“In the shape of a heart!” Ned adds.

“On top of pink or red paper so it shows around the edges,” MJ agrees with a nod.

“Double-sided in case it spins!” Ned exclaims.

Peter turns to Harley and finds him already looking at him, a spark in his eyes.

“Do you have any pictures with me, you, and Tony?” he asks.

Peter shakes his head. “I- I don’t think so. Not where we’re all looking at the camera at least. Unless you want that one from the Unhappily Ever After timeline where I’m pregnant.”

“You- What?!” Ned exclaims.

“We did a whole series of photos where we got married and had kids and then went through a bitter divorce,” Peter explains, trying to communicate to Ned with only his eyes to keep it under control.

“It’s hilarious,” Harley says simply, “but we want to go for heart-felt for this one I think. We’ll have to take a new one with all three of us if we want him to cry big tears. Photoshop won’t have the same pull on his heartstrings.”

“I’m… sorry? Are we  wanting  him to cry?” Peter asks.

Harley looks at him, incredulous. “Of course we do. Who doesn’t want to make a billionaire cry? That’s a bucket list staple.”

MJ turns down the corners of her lips and nods in agreement.

“Besides,” Harley says, “we can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. record it and then we’ll have blackmail and the uglier this whole thing is, the more embarrassing it’ll be that he turned into a sobbing mess over it.”

“He’s not gonna sob,” Peter says. He can’t imagine it. Maybe a single tear kinda deal at most.

“He’s gonna lose it,” Harley says with confidence. “But first, we gotta get a selfie with the three of us. You think you’re up for it? I’ve got an idea, but I’m not gonna tell you what it is or you’ll get all weird and ruin it.”

Peter chews his lip. “I think so? I mean… As long as he doesn’t ask me directly why I’ve been avoiding him then maybe it’ll be fine?”

Harley stares at him. “Yeah, he’s gonna ask. Maybe we can coach you on how to lie-,”

“Won’t work,” MJ interrupts. “Tried it.”

“Well shit,” Harley says quietly, visibly wracking his brain. He steps up into Peter’s space and puts his hands on his shoulders. Peter feels his face burn at the proximity, hyper-aware of Ned and MJ in the room, watching. “Peter. It’s gonna come down to whether or not you can do this. If it’s an  _ emergency  _ I think we can risk you telling him you’ve been working on his birthday gift, but you can’t say I’m helping you because I already told him I was seeing my boyfriend tonight so-,”

“What?!” Peter jumps back, out of Harley’s reach as Ned makes a strange high-pitched squealing noise in his throat and MJ stares, visibly taken aback. “Why would you-? But we’re-,”

“It was your idea,” Harley says, glancing at all of them like they’ve lost their minds. “Remember? We needed a lie for when I’m over here but you’re supposed to be studying and you made up post office guy?”

“Oh yeah,” Peter says. He gulps down air. “That’s right. Yeah I did do that.”

“Are you okay?” Harley asks. “That was… more weird than usual, even for you.”

“I’m totally fine! Perfectly normal! There’s nothing weird going on. Don’t worry I-,” Peter covers his face with his hands and says, “Can you just… not ask? I don’t want to… I can’t-,”

When he peels his hands away from his burning face, Harley’s staring at him, still confused, but the corners of his mouth tug upwards like he’s trying not to smile. He ruffles a hand through Peter’s hair.

“Keep your secrets, Spider-Baby. But that reminds me, before I go we gotta fabricate some evidence.”

“Right, right,” Peter says, avoiding looking at MJ and Ned. He’s sure Ned looks like he’s about to explode. “Yeah, uh. We can do that.”

MJ clears her throat. “Well we’re gonna go. You better send me the sobbing billionaire footage. Massive kudos if you can pull it off.”

“Oh it’s happening,” Harley says confidently. “I’ll uh, see you guys around?”

“Sure,” MJ says breezily.

Ned says nothing, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Peter shakes his head rapidly at him and makes a shooing gesture. MJ takes matters into her own hands and loops her arm through Ned’s and hauls him towards the door and Peter follows after them to get the lock.

“Seriously, send me the footage,” MJ orders and then she yanks open the door and bodily pulls Ned out with her.

Ned seems to come back to himself at the last second and clamps a hand on the door frame, preventing Peter from shutting the door.

“He totally loves you back,” he whispers loudly.

“Shut  _ up _ _,_ Ned!” Peter whispers back furiously, not daring to check over his shoulder to see if Harley overheard. “Just go!  _Please_ go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

MJ gives a mighty tug on Ned’s arm and his fingers slip from the door frame. Peter slams the door and flips the lock and lets his forehead fall against the wood. He releases a breath in an attempt to center himself and then turns around. Harley’s still across the room, standing in front of Peter’s room wearing the strangest look on his face.

Oh God.

“Umm, thanks for putting up with my weird friends,” Peter says and hides his shaking hands in his pockets.

Harley shakes his head and the strange expression vanishes. “They are pretty weird, huh? Guess that’s why you fit in so well.”

“Hey!”

“You can walk up walls and you swing around the city on chemically engineered spider webs,” Harley points out. “If that’s not weird, I don’t know what is.”

“Fair point,” Peter allows.

“I  _think_ Ned likes me, but I dunno where I stand with MJ,” he says with a frown.

Peter nods wisely. “That’s part of her charm.”

“So… I shouldn’t be worried?”

“Nah. She said I could keep you. That’s a pretty blatant stamp of approval in her book.”

“Oh,” Harley looks surprised. “Good.”

Behind Peter, the lock turns and he springs out of the way just as Aunt May opens the door.

“Oh, hi honey,” she says and pulls his head close so she can kiss the top of it. “I saw Ned and MJ in the stairwell. Ned was being...weirder than usual.”

“The stress is getting to him I think,” Peter says quickly. “One more day, you know?”

May grins and pulls him into a one-armed hug. “I’m so excited for you. You’re gonna love college. I know I did.”

“Gross, May.  _Please_ no more college stories.”

May laughs and steps around him to fully enter the room and startles, spotting Harley for the first time.

“Hi Ms. Parker.”

“Hi Harley. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here. Did you meet Ned and MJ?”

“Uh yeah, I did. We hung out and ate pizza. They’re great, really. We’ve got leftovers if you want some.”

“He was just about to head out,” Peter says. “I was gonna walk him down and uh…”

“Take a picture of Tony’s Bugatti,” Harley fills in. “Part of his birthday gift.”

“Alright. Don’t be gone too long. It’s almost curfew.”

“We won’t!” Peter promises. “Just a few pictures. You ready?” he asks Harley.

“Yeah, let’s do this. Have a goodnight, Ms. Parker.”

“Night Harley. It was good to see you again.”

“You too.” Harley smiles and follows Peter out the door. They tromp down the stairs and out the front door of the building and Peter stops dead in his tracks.

“Jesus, that thing’s really been parked at the curb this whole time?” he blurts, checking the sleek, black  very  _ expensive _ sports car for any dings, scratches, or evidence of someone trying to break into it.

“Where else was I supposed to leave it?” Harley asks, he clicks the key fob to unlock the doors and then opens the driver’s door.

“Uh, in Mr. Stark’s garage? You’re sooo lucky nobody stole it or broke a window or keyed it up.”

“Nobody can steal it without Iron Man being notified and flying down here to kick some ass,” Harley points out. “And it’s not like Tony can’t afford to have it buffed and painted if he needs to. C’mon, let’s do this thing before May comes down to haul you off to bed.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but dutifully pops open the passenger door and clambers in. Harley slides into the driver's seat and Peter takes in the shiny chrome knobs and the new leather smell.

Harley grins at him. “Pretty cool, right?”

“I guess. I don’t really know anything about cars.” Harley stares at him until Peter starts to fidget. “I mean, I know about motors and- and combustion and stuff, but I don’t know about cars specifically. I’m sure if I looked at an engine I could figure out the basics-,”

“Oh my God, you’ve never even seen an engine?” Harley asks.

Peter shrugs. “I mean, no? Why would I?”

“You  own  a car!”

“May owns a car,” he corrects. “She takes care of all the maintenance stuff on it. Besides, she mostly only drives it to and from work. I hardly ever go anywhere in the car. Normally we just take the subway or a cab or something. Parking is too much of a hassle.”

“Wait. Have you ever driven before?”

“Uh, I mean, a couple times in parking lots? And then one time as Spider-Man when I stole Flash’s dad’s car to chase down the Vulture.” He laughs nervously. “That was really scary actually. I think I’d be okay to never drive again.”

Harley looks horrified.

“We should do the picture thing,” Peter says, attempting to change the subject. “I kinda had an idea, but we can do whatever.”

“I’m gonna teach you about cars,” Harley says.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Fine, but not for a while after graduation. I need a break from learning.”

“Deal.” He still looks disturbed. “What’s your idea?”

Peter takes a breath and tries to concentrate on not blushing. It’s dark enough in the car that Harley probably wouldn’t be able to tell, but for his own peace of mind, he’d rather avoid it.

“So I was thinking a selfie of the two of us in the car, but with the street light behind us so you can’t see our faces, only our silhouettes.”

Harley nods. “Okay. Umm. Just like… looking at the camera or…”

The blush happens and there’s nothing Peter can do to stop it. “No, I think, umm facing each other or umm, if we can get the angle right then maybe have it look like we’re uh, kissing? Or we can not do that! It’s up to you. It’s whatever. I mean, he might not even see it so it could be for nothing.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence where neither of them look at the other.

“We can uh… We can see if we can get the angle right,” Harley says eventually, facing the steering wheel.

“Okay,” Peter says, too quickly. “I mean, alright. Yeah, we can try. Lemme, uh, lemme see your phone.”

“Right.” Harley takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before he hands it to Peter.

Peter opens the camera app and adjusts the settings. “This won’t be as good as it would be on my camera, but it’ll still look okay and it’ll be more believable that you took it. Not that you can’t take good pictures! Just cuz it’ll already be on your phone, you know?”

“I get what you mean,” Harley says evenly.

“Let’s uh, check the lighting,” Peter mutters. He looks behind them out the rearview window to find a streetlight and then angles his upper body to put his back to it and leans closer to Harley. He lifts the phone in selfie mode and moves around until the light shines around him, casting his face into dark shadow and outlining him in yellowish-orange light.

“Nice. Okay, okay. Now you lean in. Umm, a little closer. Okay, that’s good I think.” On-screen, their silhouettes are touching, Harley facing Peter and Peter facing forward. In real life, Harley is close enough that Peter can feel his breath on his cheek and he’s grateful Harley doesn’t have super hearing or he’d probably laugh at how fast Peter’s heart is beating.

“Is this normal first date behavior? I feel like we’re going too fast,” Harley says, a joking lilt to his tone. Peter’s heart skips a beat.

“I… don’t know? For Mr. Stark it probably is.”

“Gross,” Harley says. “Never say anything like that again.”

Peter laughs a little and turns ever so slightly to look at Harley. “Yeah… Yeah, I won’t.” They make eye contact and Peter’s finger slips. “Oops. I think I took a picture.”

“Smooth, Parker. Let’s get this over with. I really don’t want to try to explain this to May.”

Peter laughs again, airy like he can’t catch his breath. “Yeah, okay.”

They face each other and Peter checks the picture to make sure they’re positioned correctly before he flips the phone around to use the better camera. He takes several photos before he decides that they’ve probably got something usable, but instructs Harley not to move until he’s made sure.

He flips through the pictures, holding the phone up so Harley can see too. He deletes a few blurry ones and a couple where he’d shifted and they were no longer centered in the frame.

“They’re not bad,” he says. He could definitely do better with his camera, but these work for their purposes. “Either of these two would be good. Oh here’s that one I took accidentally.” He laughs a little and moves to delete it.

“Hey hey!” Harley snatches the phone from him before he can and takes a closer look at the accidental photo. A small smile curls his lips. “I’m keeping that one. I think it’s my favorite actually.”

Peter frowns at it, tipping his head to the side to get a better look. It’s a little grainy because they took it on the front-facing camera and they aren’t pretending to kiss. Instead, Peter is looking up at Harley while Harley has his chin dipped down and it looks like their foreheads are touching. Somehow it’s more… tender… than the staged kissing photos. He wants to re-make Harley’s joke about moving too fast for a first date, but he can’t bring himself to draw attention to the intimacy captured in the photo.

Because that one wasn’t staged. That one is just them.

“Yeah, okay,” he eventually says.

Harley sets it as his lock screen and Peter’s stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies. It would be weird if he asked Harley to send him a copy, right? Right.

~ ** A Very Harley Interlude ** ~

** *Four Hours Earlier* **

Harley sees the text as it comes in and spends the next five minutes freaking out. Peter invited him over to meet Ned and MJ, his best friends. Peter’s told him plenty about the two of them. He knows MJ can Cut A Bitch but with words or a look instead of a knife and that Ned is her polar opposite: kind and exuberant. What Peter hasn’t told him, and Harley figured out on his own from listening to Peter’s stories, is that they’re both fiercely loyal.

This wouldn’t normally be a problem but him and Peter didn’t get along until recently. He has no doubt that Peter’s been  _ at minimum _ complaining about him and exposing all of his worst qualities since January. Harley has no idea what kind of reception to expect. Will bygones be bygones? Do they resent him? Do they think he’s not good enough to be Peter’s friend, let alone something more?

No. Not something more. He’s trying to be Peter’s  _ friend. _ Just friends.

He almost asks Tony for advice but then decides he hasn’t sunk that low yet. Last time he received interpersonal advice from Tony it came in the form of a flash grenade he’d made out of metal scraps to use against his childhood bully. He decides to play it safe and places an order at a pizza place near Peter’s apartment. Better to show up with some good food than to show up empty-handed and awkward.

Belatedly, he realizes he never responded to Peter’s invite and fires off a hasty acceptance before looking down at his clothes… They’re fine. Maybe a little smelly after he singed his hair earlie-

_ Oh fuck my hair! _

He sprints to the bathroom, nearly bowling over Vision as he skids around a corner and frantically checks every angle of his head before he sighs in relief. There’s no visible damage, just a spot that’s a little rough to the touch. He can work with that.

He quickly runs some gel through his hair and then ducks into his room to change his clothes. He contents himself with a clean pair of jeans and a simple heather gray t-shirt and then bolts out the door and collides with Tony.

“Hey, hey! What’s the hurry, bud?” Tony steadies him with a hand on each shoulder.

“Shit, sorry Tony. I uh… I gotta go. I’m meeting someone.” He reminds himself not to hold his breath as he watches Tony puzzle through what he just said.

“I thought Peter was studying with his friends,” Tony says.

“He is. I’m uh, going on a date and I’m supposed to be picking up the pizza so I gotta get going or we’ll be stuck with nasty cold pizza.”

“You’re going on a date,” Tony echoes. “With who?”

Harley shrugs. “A guy. We got to talking at the post office and hit it off, I guess. So…” He shrugs again.

“So you’re going on a date.”

“Yeah. And I’m gonna be late unless I go now. So… see ya.”

He scoots around Tony and jogs to the end of the hall where he hits the button to call the elevator. When the doors open he steps in and hits the button for the garage. Tony is still standing outside his bedroom watching him go.

Just as the doors begin to close, Harley calls out, “I’m taking the Bugatti!”

He catches a glimpse of Tony’s sour expression, but then the doors close and Harley is whisked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Serotonin Wednesday everyone! The last chapter pushed this fic past the 300 kudos mark so I'd like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who leaves kudos and comments! You guys are truly amazing!


	9. Give it a rainbow flag and a glow stick

~ **Harley** ~

Tony acts… weirder than normal all day Friday. He keeps bringing up past boyfriends or flings he’s had with guys. It’s like because Harley mentioned he’s seeing a guy, Tony thinks he needs reassurance that being into guys is okay. Or maybe he’s trying to be relatable? Harley’s not sure, but whatever the reason he decides to make himself scarce until Tony gets all the crazy out of his system.

He tries to spend more time with Peter but Peter is weirdly reluctant to include Harley in any time he spends with Ned and MJ. He tries not to over-think it. They’re probably celebrating the end of their last final and don’t want him around as an awkward fourth wheel (even though four is the ideal number of wheels). He’d thought last night had gone pretty well even if it did seem like the trio had an entire undercurrent of communication that didn’t include Harley. He guesses that must be part of being best friends with someone and tries not to feel hurt by it.

To be honest, he doesn’t have a lot of experience with having friends and has _zero_ experience with having a best friend. It’s his own fault of course. He didn’t exactly make being pleasant to other people a priority back in Rose Hill, but he’s starting to wish he would have if only so he can figure out where he stands with Peter’s friends.

Hanging out with Peter, Ned, and MJ was weird on a certain level. They’re the kind of best friends you see in movies. They’re like Harry, Ron, and Hermione if Harry and Ron were genius dumbass dorks and Hermione was a stone-cold badass. Which… okay now that he thinks about it, isn’t too far off. So he tries not to think of himself as an early series Nevil in relation to their Golden Trio. Instead, he tries to imagine himself as more of a late series Ginny.

He buries himself in updates to his watch and takes it into the training gym to practice using it. He’s glad he didn’t accidentally use it on those reporters that startled him and Peter outside of the lobby, but it worries him that it hadn’t even crossed his mind to use it until hours later. It doesn’t matter if he has the tech to protect himself if he forgets he has it when shit goes down.

Before he knows it, it’s Saturday, or in other words, Graduation Day. He’s never been to a graduation ceremony before. His own should be happening sometime soon but he’s not going. He put in the work to graduate a semester early so he could get the hell out of that tiny backwater town as soon as possible, he sure as fuck isn’t going to go back just to parade across a stage and be surrounded by people he doesn’t like and who don’t like him.

Mama was a little upset of course. She’d wanted to celebrate her eldest child graduating but Harley managed to convince her that it would be enough to have a cake and a family dinner before he left for New York. She sent him a picture of his diploma when it arrived in the mail a month later. Now, watching Peter get doted on by May and Tony in the living room at the tower, he thinks he made the right decision. He’d hate to have to put up with all of the fuss. He’s much happier on the sidelines even if Peter seems to be enjoying the limelight.

“May, c’mon. My hair is fine,” Peter whines, but he’s smiling and doesn’t swat her hands away.

“You look so handsome,” May says for the fifth time, smoothing a stray lock off his forehead.

Peter rolls his eyes and catches Harley watching him from across the room and grins. “You sure you don’t want to take some pictures in my cap and gown? Your mom would probably like them.”

Harley pulls a face. He doesn’t want the fuss, but it really would make his mom incredibly happy. Peter must sense his resignation because his grin turns into a blinding smile and he bounds across the living room for the garment bag currently flopped over the back of a chair at the table.

“Are we really doing this?” Tony asks, sounding excited as he looks up from his phone.

“Yes,” Peter answers for Harley. He pulls the royal blue gown out of the bag and Harley reluctantly walks over and takes it from him. It’s the wrong color. If Harley had walked with his graduating class he’d have been decked out in forest green, but his mom won’t care.

“Y’all get five minutes and then I’m done and it’s back to being all about Peter,” he announces.

“Five whole minutes?” Tony says, with a smirk, snapping a picture of Harley shoving his arm into the gown while Peter stands next to him with the cap, grinning. “It’s gonna be the longest five minutes of your life.”

Harley grumbles under his breath, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Once he’s wearing the gown, May comes over and fixes his hair for him and gets the cap situated on his head. He stomachs a few pictures from both Tony on his phone and Peter on his camera and smiles the best he can.

Then he whips the cap off his head and tosses it to Peter who catches it, startled. “Get over here and suffer with me, would you?”

Peter grins and hands May his camera before shoving his cap on his head and skipping over to stand beside Harley. Harley puts his arm around his shoulders and they take a couple of photos together before Harley announces he wants one with Tony too.

Peter starts to step away, but Harley grabs his elbow. “You too, dummy. All three of us.”

“Oh,” Peter says. And then, _“Oh.”_

Harley elbows him and thankfully, May and Tony don’t seem to notice the interaction. Peter grins at Harley, excitement sparkling in his eyes and Harley shakes his head, hiding the involuntary smile that curls his lips. There’s a flash and he glares at May who grins back, unrepentant from behind Peter’s camera.

Tony stands between them and they take several photos in a variety of poses, ranging from traditional (everyone smiling at the camera while Tony has a hand on either boys’ shoulder) to goofy (Harley attempting to pick Tony’s nose while Tony tries to put him in a headlock and Peter is doubled over laughing, barely holding his cap on his head).

Then the five minutes are up and Harley shrugs out of the gown and Peter dons it. May tears up, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders and fixes his cap so it sits straight on his head. “I’m so proud of you.”

Harley glances at Tony and smirks, seeing him barely keeping his own tears at bay as Peter envelopes his aunt in a hug. Harley picks up Peter’s camera and snaps a picture of the hug. It’s not a Parker quality photo, but he figures they’d still like to have it. Then he turns and captures Tony Stark’s red-rimmed eyes because he’s nothing if not a little shit. He’ll have to get Peter to send a copy to MJ.

Tony glares at him and he takes a picture of that too.

~ **Harley Keener Started a Live Video** ~

The video opens with a shaky view of someone’s knees. They’re wearing gray dress pants and shiny black shoes. The legs of the person on their left are also visible, covered to mid-calf with a flowy purple skirt and wearing strappy gold sandals with orange painted toenails. The camera angle shifts and an auditorium comes into focus, but the exposure is off. The picture is over-bright and washed out.

“What the fuck did Peter do to my settings?” a voice from behind the camera whispers. Harley.

Someone is talking into a microphone in front of a sea of teens clad in blue and gold caps and gowns but the sound reverberates badly and comes through the video tinny so it’s impossible to follow the speech. The camera zooms in on the speaker and Tony Stark is easily recognizable.

“What would get famous billionaire and Avenger, Tony Stark, to give a speech to a graduating high school class?” Harley’s voice whispers. The camera swings away from Tony and focuses on a spot in the mass of graduates before zooming in even further onto a blue gown-clad figure, unrecognizable in the heavily pixelated video. “Only his undying love for one, Peter Parker.”

There’s a soft snort from nearby.

“You can’t tell because my phone’s camera is so shitty but he’s definitely crying.” It zooms in a little further and the pixelation gets worse.

“Be nice,” a feminine voice says from off to the side. “Besides, he loves you just as much.”

“May, you’re ruining my call out video,” Harley whines.

“Good. Now hush. I’m trying to listen.”

Harley sighs and the video cuts out.

**The Iron Interns Vlog**

**Ep. 2: Do’s and Don’ts of Living with Tony Stark**

“Hi guys,” Peter and Harley say in unison. They’re sitting together at a nondescript gray metal table. It looks like it’s seen some wear in the form of scratches and dings and a dark black scorch mark. Behind them is some high-tech looking equipment.

“Oh thank God. Finally,” Harley says, tipping his head back.

Peter elbows him. “You’re supposed to act like we got it right on the first try.”

Harley leans forward, looking directly into the camera. “That was like, take 50. Don’t let Peter trick you into thinking we’re actually good at this.”

“You ruin everything. Anyway,” Peter says, “today we’re going to give all of you some pointers on what to do-,”

“Or _not_ do,” Harley interjects.

“While living with Mr. Stark,” Peter finishes. “I don’t live here so Harley came up with a lot of the ideas for this list and I dug up some old footage for us.”

“Apparently I did such a good job with the list last time, Peter figured I should handle this one too.”

“Whatever helps you feel like you’re contributing.”

Harley clears his throat and adjusts the slightly crumpled sheet of notebook paper in front of him. “Item number one: _Don’t_ drink all the coffee.”

The scene cuts away from the studio-quality recording to a shaky phone recording of Harley. The camera is way too close to his face as he whispers, “I just took the last mug of coffee.” He holds up a gray mug with a black MIT logo on it and grins mischievously.

From the background, there’s a loud thump and then a second voice yells, “Harley did you take my BLEEP-ing coffee again?”

Harley takes a loud slurp out of the mug and then looks past the camera. He almost chokes and the recording goes all shaky before ending abruptly amidst a lot of yelling and laughter.

The video cuts back to Peter and Harley at the gray table. The list is now in front of Peter.

“Item number two,” Peter reads, _“Do_ ask for permission before borrowing his sweaters.”

The video cuts away and this time it’s a selfie video of Peter walking down a nondescript hallway. He’s wearing a plain black zip-up hoodie that’s just a little bit too big and slips off his shoulder. In the background, someone else is talking but the words are too muffled to make out.

“Hey, is that my sweater?” the background speaker suddenly asks.

“Uh, yeah?” Peter says.

“I’ve been looking for that for _weeks._ Where did you find it?”

“Umm. I borrowed it when we went to Coney Island.”

“Are you- Pete, that was two months ago!”

“I- Sorry. D’you want it back? It’s the only one I brought with me but I’ll probably be-,”

“Just… Keep it. I already bought a replacement anyway.”

Peter beams at him. “Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

“Yeah, sure kid. What are you recording for anyway?”

The video cuts back to the gray table, Harley, and Peter.

“Fun fact,” Harley says, “Peter is a sweater klepto.”

Peter shrugs. “I can’t help that everyone has such comfy sweaters.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “I still want my hoodie back. That was my best one.”

“I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Harley stares at him for a long moment while Peter smiles. There’s dead air for five solid seconds before Harley sighs and pulls the list towards him. “You’re such a liar, Parker. Item three: _Don’t_ mess with the music.”

The video cuts to a shot of an industrial looking ceiling. There are exposed air ducts and a visible sprinkler system. Black Sabbath is blaring. Suddenly, the classic rock cuts out and is replaced with the twang of an acoustic guitar and Brad Paisley crooning about little moments.

Tony’s voice starts distant and gets louder and closer as he says, “Harley I swear to _God_ I will ship you back to Tennessee to live in squalor among the rednecks if you don’t stop changing my goddamn-,”

The video cuts back to Harley and Peter.

“Item four,” Peter says, _“Do_ clean up after yourself.”

The video cuts to a stationary video pointing at an empty kitchen. The angle, as well as the time stamp in the bottom right corner, suggest it’s footage from a security camera. There are various pots and pans strewn about the stovetop with visible food crusted on them. A baking sheet sits askew on the counter, burnt cheese stuck to its surface. Two dirty plates and a pair of forks sit in the sink, unrinsed.

“What is that _smell?”_ Tony’s voice comes from out of frame. Then Tony steps into view and flinches back from the mess on the stove. “Oh for the love of- PETER! What did I tell you about dirty dishes!”

Distantly, Peter says, “Sorry Mr. Stark! I’ll get them after this- BLEEP! _Harley!_ Quit throwing shells at me!”

“Quit being such an easy target!” Harley says, equally distant.

Tony drops his chin to his chest and pinches the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “I never should’ve quit drinking,” he mutters under his breath. “These kids are gonna kill me before liver failure ever would’ve.” With a sigh, he sets his mug in the dishwasher and grabs a much larger mug out of the cupboard. He walks over to the half-full coffee pot and fills the new mug to the brim. When he puts the pot back, it’s empty.

Jump cut back to Peter and Harley.

“Item five,” Harley says, _“Don’t_ get caught borrowing his cologne.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “Why would you need his cologne?”

Harley shrugs. “Reasons.”

Peter rolls his eyes and the video cuts away to another selfie video of Harley’s face. He‘s using a Snapchat filter that gives him bunny ears, a little pink nose, and whiskers.

“We’ve been sent on a secret mission by the true ruler of the Stark household,” he says, voice altered to be squeaky and munchkin-like. “Objective one: acquire stinky cologne from Tony’s bathroom. Objective two: throw it the BLEEP away. Tony’s been in the lab all morning so it should be a simple mission.”

The video cuts to Harley in a bathroom, holding a bottle of cologne up to the camera. “The object of contempt,” he says, voice no longer squeaky.

The video cuts again and he’s once again wearing the bunny ears filter and is outside standing beside a dumpster. He tosses the bottle over his shoulder and it lands in the dumpster. “Mission accomplished,” he says squeakily.

The video jumps to Harley sitting on a couch, still using the bunny filter. He’s not speaking, but there’s a squeaky voice in the background.

“Harley, did you borrow my cologne? Pepper’s going to be back in town tonight and it’s her favorite but I can’t find it anywhere.” Tony comes into view behind Harley, dressed sharply in a gray and black suit, fiddling with his cuff links.

“You sure it’s her favorite?” Harley asks in the squeaky voice, keeping his expression neutral. Behind him, Tony goes still and then slowly turns towards the back of Harley’s head.

“What did you do?” he demands, still squeaky. “Where is it?”

“Depends. What day does the dumpster out back get dumped?”

Tony stares at the back of his head for a drawn-out moment before he slowly turns around and walks away without another word. As soon as he’s out of sight, Harley’s face breaks into a grin.

Jump cut back to Harley and Peter.

“Item six,” Peter says, _“Do_ let him sleep in.”

The video cuts to a darkened bedroom and there’s a time stamp in the bottom right corner reading, ‘02/14/19 3:08 am’. The angle suggests the recording is from a security camera near the ceiling. Suddenly, the door bangs open and light from the hall floods in along with a visibly distressed Peter. A figure, Tony, sits up in the bed, a gauntlet already forming over his hand.

“Wass’rong?” Tony slurs. “You hurt?”

“No no no, I’m fine. I just-,” Peter sniffles and hugs his arms around his middle.

“What happened?” Tony asks, dismissing the gauntlet.

“I just heard about Oppy and I- I dunno. I- I’m sorry I woke you up. I just… I wanted to talk to someone, but I’ll- I’ll let you sleep.”

“Kid, just… Come here.” Tony scoots over and Peter only hesitates a second before jumping into bed beside him and squirreling under the covers. “It’s okay.” Tony leans back against the headboard and runs his fingers through Peter’s hair soothingly. “Oppy had a good long life. Way longer than we thought it’d be.”

“I know.” Peter sniffles again. “It’s just so sad. He was such a good boy.”

“He was,” Ton agrees. There’s a pause before he says, “Did you know they’re making another rover to send to Mars? It’s supposed to launch in 2020.”

“Really? What’s its name?”

“It doesn’t have one yet. They’re going to let students vote later this year and then they’ll have judges pick from the submissions. Any ideas?”

Peter’s quiet. The time stamp on the screen skips past several minutes. Neither of them have moved when he answers. “Dedication. Maybe… Determination?”

“I like ‘Dedication’,” Tony says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You should submit it. I think you have to do a little essay with it, but you’ll kill it.”

Peter sniffs and presses his face against Tony’s thigh. “Okay, I will,” he says, voice muffled. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Anytime, kid.”

The video cuts back to Harley and Peter.

“This brings us to our final item,” Harley says. “But before we get on with it, I wanted to address a question I’ve seen pop up a lot.”

Peter looks at him curiously.

“A lot of you have been commenting, asking about why Peter calls Tony, ‘Mr. Stark’.”

Peter’s expression clears into one of understanding. “Oh that. It’s fine, Harley. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me. I’m tired of people speculating that you and Tony secretly don’t get along and this is all an elaborate ploy for attention. First of all, bull- _BLEEP_. Second of all, it’s none of your goddamn business. Third of all-,”

“Harley c’mon,” Peter says. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It _is_ though. They all think it’s some formality but it’s _not.”_

Peter rolls his eyes. “Alright, then _you_ explain it if it bugs you so much. I don’t even know how to explain why I don’t call him by his first name so good luck.”

“You explained just fine to me.”

“Really. What does it mean, then?” Peter demands, clearly not expecting Harley to have a good answer.

“It means ‘dad’ in Peter-ese,” Harley says nonchalantly.

Peter nearly falls off his stool. “What?! _No!”_

“That’s what you said when I asked,” Harley says, eyes wide with faux innocence.

“It is not.” Peter looks directly into the camera. “I _never_ said that, Mr. Stark!”

“Oh, you’re right. My bad.” Harley smirks. “You said it means _‘mom’.”_

Peter flails and makes an inarticulate noise that starts Harley laughing.

“Why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m not. I’m just setting the record straight.”

“This record is not straight. Give it a rainbow flag and a glow stick because it’s the least straight thing I’ve ever seen.”

Harley smiles so wide it looks like it hurts and bumps Peter’s arm with his elbow. “Don’t worry, it’s definitely mutual. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him call us his kids.”

“No he hasn’t,” Peter says with conviction.

Harley shrugs. “Not directly. Usually, it’s stuff like ‘I have to go pick up my kid.’ Or, ‘gotta make sure my kids don’t set the lab on fire again.' Or, 'this parenting thing is for the birds.’”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Peter argues.

“Sure it does,” Harley says easily. “It used to be _the_ kid and now it’s _my_ kid. That’s massive. Trust me. I’ve got daddy issues up to my eyeballs so I know what I’m talking about.”

“How are you being so calm and mature about this?” Peter demands, voice shrill. He stands up. “I’ve gotta go hyperventilate in a paper bag.”

Harley rolls his eyes and tugs him back down. “No, you’re not. Just breathe. You’re smart. I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

“I did not-,” Peter catches Harley’s eye and amends his statement. “Maybe I suspected, but I’m not just gonna _assume.”_

Harley grins and ruffles Peter’s hair. “It’s okay Sp- uh, Pete.” He makes a face. “We’ll wrap this up and then we can go watch Stranger Things and eat those cookies Rhodey brought over.”

Peter gets a sheepish look on his face.

“What?” Harley asks.

“Can we uh, start it at the beginning again? I fell asleep pretty much right away last time. I don’t remember anything past the intro.”

Harley sighs. “Yeah, I guess. You’re lucky it’s a really good first episode. Anyway,” Harley turns back towards the camera, “Back to our regularly scheduled program.”

“Right umm, we’ll close out with the final clip,” Peter says. “Thanks for all the likes and subscribes. And the comments! You guys are amazing!”

“Our final item is, _d_ _on’t_ forget to give Tony plenty of hugs,” Harley says.

“Do the outro,” Peter reminds him, grinning expectantly.

Harley rolls his eyes, but dutifully looks into the camera and says, “Have a nice night, y’all. ‘Til next time.”

The video cuts to a montage of still photos of one or both boys hugging Tony while uplifting instrumental music plays in the background. There are several in which Tony is smiling or suspiciously damp in the eye region. The montage ends with a picture of Tony with an arm around each boy. Peter is wearing a blue graduation cap and Harley the matching gown and all three are smiling wide at the camera.

The image and the music fade, leaving a black screen. White text appears and in bold lettering, it reads, “Thanks for being the best Not-My-Dad a kid could hope for! Stay tuned for more birthday week surprises coming your way!”

~*~

Harley can’t stop laughing as he watches their latest video go viral. They’re still in the lab and have their YouTube Channel pulled up on one holoscreen and @iamironman’s mentions pulled up on another. Both are exploding. Beside him, Peter sits on top of the workbench sipping on an apple juice from the mini-fridge and swinging his feet happily.

The door to the lab slides open and they both turn. Harley is expecting Tony, but instead, Pepper stands in the doorway.

“Pepper!” Peter exclaims. He sets down his juice box and hops off the workbench in one smooth motion then runs across the room to throw his arms around her. Harley follows after him at a more sedate pace.

“I hear you boys have been putting Tony through the wringer,” she says, eyes sparkling in delight.

“Only a little bit,” Peter says.

“We’re just getting started,” Harley says.

Peter steps back from Pepper’s embrace and Harley steps into it.

“Well, I approve.” She squeezes Harley tight and then ruffles his hair as he steps back beside Peter. “Trying to keep you boys out of trouble has done a good job keeping _him_ out of trouble. I especially like the YouTube channel.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks.

“Yes.” Pepper smiles. “It was smart. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as averse to social media as Tony.”

Peter and Harley grin at each other. “Thanks,” Peter says.

“Tony was kinda pissed about it at first,” Harley admits.

Pepper rolls her eyes. “He just likes to worry. But maybe I’m a little biased. It was nice to get a little snippet of your lives while I was away for so long. Made me a little less homesick.” She laughs. “I can’t tell you how many times I watched that video of the three of you playing Mario Kart.”

Peter steps forward and hugs her again. “We missed you too.”

_What the hell,_ Harley decides and he steps in and wraps his arms around both of them. That’s when Tony walks in.

“Not even home for ten minutes and you’re already fraternizing with the enemy, Pep? I wish I could say I’m surprised.”

“Get in here, Tony. I missed you boys,” Pepper says.

With a sigh, Tony puts on a show of reluctance but joins their group hug regardless.

“I hear you gave a speech at Peter’s graduation ceremony this morning,” Pepper says to Tony. She gives Peter and Harley one last squeeze before she releases them and their group hug dismantles. “I didn’t think high school graduations were on your level.”

Tony sniffs and looks away as he shrugs. “Yeah well. This one seemed worth stooping down for. Didn’t even have to lose a bet to get me to do it.”

“That sounds like a story,” Pepper says, eying him suspiciously.

Tony smirks. “You’ll have to talk to May.”

“Wait,” Peter says. “My May? What does she have to do with a bet? Or… was there not a bet? I’m confused.”

Tony ruffles his hair. “Don’t worry about it kiddo.”

“Let’s go out to dinner,” Pepper says before Peter can argue. “Somewhere nice. Are you staying here tonight, Peter?”

“Uh, I can. I’ll let Aunt May know.”

“Good. I want us all to spend some time together this weekend. I was gone too long and missed so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! Thank you soooo much for all the comments and kudos! I can't believe we're halfway through! I really really like the next chapter. Well... the first half of it anyway ;) Can't wait to share it with you guys next week!


	10. When

~ ** Peter ** ~

Pepper corners Peter in the kitchen while Tony and Harley are still getting ready for dinner. He’s already dressed in a simple white button-up, gray slacks, and the same shiny black dress shoes he wore when he and Harley were kidnapped. He’s long since given up on the tie, opting to leave it draped around his neck while he inhales a couple of apple juice boxes and what’s left of the cookies Rhodey brought by after the graduation ceremony. He couldn’t stay long. In fact, none of the Avengers’ could spare him much more than a passing hair tousle and a ‘congratulations’, but that’s fine. He gets it. They’re busy and he doesn’t expect them to be able to set aside their responsibilities to the world just for him.

Pepper enters the kitchen, fiddling with a bracelet around her wrist and raises an eyebrow at Peter where he’s perched on the counter beside the stove. His cheeks are bulging with the three cookies he just shoved in there so he smiles with chipmunk-ed cheeks and kicks his heels.

Pepper laughs softly. “You’re not spoiling your dinner are you?”

Peter shakes his head adamantly. If anything, he’s making sure he lasts long enough to get to the restaurant. He slugs down some apple juice and washes down the cookies.

“D’you need a hand with that?” Peter asks, once his mouth is empty. Pepper is still struggling with the bracelet.

“Sure. Then I’ll get your tie for you.”

“That’d be great,” Peter says in relief as he hops down from the counter. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of them. I can tie a knot, but it’ll never be a pretty knot.”

Pepper hands Peter the bracelet then holds out her wrist. He efficiently fits it around her wrist and does the clasp.

“You’re good at that,” Pepper says, admiring the bracelet. “The first time I asked Tony for help with one of these he dropped it three times before I told him to forget about it.”

Peter grins and holds up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “Sticky fingers help. Also, I have practice helping May.”

She gestures for him to step closer. “That would be helpful with bracelets, but I imagine not so much with ties.”

Peter tips his chin up as she winds the fabric around his neck smoothly and efficiently. “Yeah, not so much.”

“There.” Pepper straightens the knot and then brushes at his chest. “Cookie crumbs,” she says with a faux stern expression.

Peter grins sheepishly. “Oops.”

“So.” She steps back and leans on her hands against the counter behind her then lifts her eyebrows with patient expectation. “Tell me about you and Harley.”

Peter’s face immediately flushes with warmth. “I, uh- We- There’s nothing to tell, really. We’re friends now and uh- Yeah. That’s it. Ned and MJ like him.”

“Do  _you_ like him?” Pepper asks.

Peter shrugs and ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah. He’s… nice. Not like I thought before.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, Peter.”

Peter feels his blush increase ten-fold and keeps his chin to his chest to hide it. “I- Well… It’s- Why are you- I’m not-,” He drops his face into his hands and groans. “Why are you doing this to me?” he whines through his hands.

“Is he… your boyfriend?”

Peter snaps his head up to stare at her wide-eyed. “What?! No! I mean, we  just  started getting along. I wouldn’t- I mean, I don’t want to mess anything up.”

Pepper frowns, considering him. “So then... who is Harley dating?”

“What?” Peter asks, his heart plummeting into his stomach.

“Tony said Harley went on a date on Thursday… with a guy. And then May texted him telling him how nice it was having Harley over more often.”

_ “Oh.” _ Suddenly a lot of strange text messages he’s received from Mr. Stark over the past few days make sense. “Okay, so-,”

He cuts himself off and scurries to peak out of the kitchen to make sure Tony hasn’t wandered into the living room. There’s no one out there so he quickly continues in a hushed voice.

“Me and Harley are making his birthday present at my house, but I can’t keep secrets from him so I’ve been avoiding coming over and saying that I’ve been studying instead, but then we needed an excuse for Harley to be able to come over, even though I was supposed to be studying, so we invented Post Office Guy and uh, said Harley was dating him. But you  can’t  tell him until after Friday, okay? It’s a really  _really_ great gift and I don’t want to be the one to ruin it because I blabbed.”

“I won’t tell him,” Pepper assures him, “but you should know he thinks you and Harley are in a relationship and are hiding it from him for some reason.”

Peter’s blush returns. “Why would we hide it from him? If we were, uh, dating I mean.”

Pepper smiles and shakes her head. “That’s what he can’t figure out and it’s driving him a little crazy. He thought maybe you boys didn’t think he’d be supportive, but you’ve made it pretty clear over the past couple days that you’re unfazed by same-sex relationships so now he doesn’t know what to think.”

“Oh no,” Peter says, hiding his face in his hands. “We’re so bad at this.”

Pepper laughs. “Just try to take it easy on him, okay? I don’t want to ruin your surprise but he’s pretty stressed out about it.”

“I’m sorry. We really didn’t mean to.”

“I know sweetie.” Pepper’s expression flickers like she just had a thought. “Harley’s lock screen picture. That  is  the two of you.”

“Oh God, you saw that? We were uh, fabricating evidence.”

Pepper shakes her head, pressing her lips together to contain her smile. “I haven’t yet. Tony told me about it.” She steps forward and wraps him in a hug, kissing his forehead.

“What’s this for?” Peter asks, happily returning the hug despite his confusion.

“All three of you are idiots but God help me, I love you.”

Peter laughs. “We love you too.”

She steps back and runs her fingers through Peter’s hair. “When you and Harley start dating for real, you make sure you tell me, okay?”

“I- We- It’s not-,”

“Peter.” She fixes him with the same ‘cut the bullshit’ stare that Aunt May uses.

“Yeah, okay,” Peter agrees reluctantly.

She continues to stare expectantly.

“I promise I’ll tell you  _if_ we start dating,” Peter says.

She smirks and starts walking towards the living room. “When,” she says with the confidence of a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

~*~

Dinner is… weird. You’d think a place with an honest to God crystal chandelier and more plants than people would be able to afford a bigger table. And better lighting. They end up seated at the smallest four-person table in existence with Pepper and Tony all cozied up on one side and Peter and Harley opposite them knocking elbows and literally stepping on each other’s toes.

“Quit playing footsie with me, Parker.”

_ “Your _ foot was on  _my_ side this time.”

“It was your foot the other 17 times. Why would it suddenly be my foot?”

“I dunno, because you missed playing footsie with me?”

Harley opens his mouth to continue the argument, but then he squints down at his plate and nudges something with his fork. “Is that a fly or one of the green ball things that looks like a pea but tastes like a salt lick? It’s too damn dark in here.”

Peter leans over him to look. “It’s a green ball thing.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” Harley says and scrapes it off his meat to join the pile of other green ball things on the side of his plate.

“They’re called capers, you uncultured infants,” Mr. Stark says. “They’re good. You should eat them.”

“They’re disgusting and I shan’t,” Harley says, gesturing emphatically with his fork.

Peter laughs too loud for the quiet restaurant and stifles it with the crook of his arm.

“What  is  veal anyway?” Harley asks. “It just tastes like steak to me. I thought I was branching out.”

“I think it’s lamb,” Peter says. He looks across the table at Mr. Stark and Pepper. “Right?”

They look at each other and hesitate too long.

“What?” Harley asks.

“What is it?” Peter asks, suddenly fearful. “Oh God, what have you been  _ eating?” _

“Is it tongue?” Harley demands. “You  _have_ to tell me if it’s tongue.”

“Should we tell them?” Mr. Stark asks Pepper quietly.

_ “ Yes _ _,”_ Peter and Harley answer in unison.

Pepper sighs. “It’s calve.”

Peter stares at her, horrified. “Calve as in a baby cow? Harley’s been eating a  _ baby?! _ _”_ He’s definitely too loud judging by the sharp look both adults send his way. He leans forward and whisper-shouts, “Why does this restaurant serve babies to people to eat?!”

Harley shoves his plate away. “I don’t have a problem eating animals, but there’s something seriously fucked up about going after baby animals specifically and then calling them something else like they know it morally ain’t right and they gotta hide it.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to finish it,” Pepper says. It’s nice of her to say even if it’s clear to Peter that Harley wasn’t going to finish it even if she’d tried to insist. She turns to Peter. “Do you not like the Bouillabaisse?”

Peter feels a blush spread across his cheeks. “I didn’t realize… I don’t actually like seafood? I’m trying to finish it though! I know it was expensive.”

“Why did you order it if you don’t like seafood?” Harley asks.

“I uh, recognized it from Harry Potter.”

Harley snorts. “Wow. I keep forgetting what a dork you are.”

“Well, why did you order  _that_ if you didn’t even know what it was?” Peter demands.

Harley rolls his eyes. “Because it was the most expensive thing on the menu, duh.”

They both cringe and look down at the innocuous half-eaten slab of meat on Harley’s plate.

“Rich people are fucked up,” Harley says quietly. “No offense.”

“None taken and I agree,” Mr. Stark says.

Pepper takes in their miserable faces across from her and sighs. “You were right,” she says with obvious reluctance.

Mr. Stark perks up with a grin. “What was that dear? I didn’t quite hear?”

Pepper rolls her eyes and shoves her cloth napkin into his chest. “Settle the bill and make sure they box up my Flamiche. I still want it. Come on boys. There’s an Olive Garden around the corner.”

“Oh thank God,” Peter says, scrambling up out of his chair. “I’m so hungry.”

“I’ve never actually been to an Olive Garden before,” Harley says, getting up nearly as quickly. Mr. Stark flags down a waiter while Pepper leads the way to the door, her sleek and silky dress rippling softly under the light of the chandelier as Harley and Peter fall into step behind her.

“Oh my God you’re going to love the breadsticks,” Peter says and then gasps. “Wow, I can’t believe I get to experience the moment you’re able to fully comprehend the breadsticks in my purse meme.”

Harley snorts a laugh and elbows Peter affectionately.  “Jesus , you’re a dork.”

Peter turns up his nose. “You love it.”

Harley grins at him and doesn’t disagree.

~*~

The next day the media circulates a lovely photo of the four of them  _ way  _ over-dressed for Olive Garden, sitting in a spacious booth with Mr. Stark and Pepper leaning into each other on one side and Harley and Peter opposite them facing each other. Peter is cross-legged on the bench gesturing animatedly while Harley has one foot on the floor and the other leg folded in front of him as he leans towards Peter, eyes squeezed shut as he laughs. The tables around them are deserted and their plates, as well as the breadbasket, are empty.

~*~

“Hurry up! He’s gonna be here any second!” Peter hisses.

“I’m  _ trying _ _,”_ Harley snaps, looking a little pale and pointedly not looking down. “The stupid thing won’t stay.”

With an impatient huff, Peter toes out of his sneakers and quickly scrambles up the wall and then onto the ceiling where he delicately crawls over the exposed air ducts. “Give it here,” he says once he’s dangling over Harley’s head. Harley glares from where he’s standing at the top of a ladder attempting to attach the string holding their over-large centerpiece photo to the hanging fluorescent light.

“Why didn’t you do that in the fucking first place?” he grumbles, passing Peter the string.

Carefully, Peter releases his hands from the ceiling and stands, fully upside-down and uses both hands to deftly tie the string into place.

“You said you could do it.”

They haul away the ladder and make some minor adjustments to what Peter is starting to think of as The Mural. Harley trips over Peter’s abandoned shoes and nearly drops the cake they spent four hours and three boxes of cake mix trying and failing to make before finally managing a decent one. When Mr. Stark enters the lab it’s to Harley hurling a sneaker at Peter’s head and yelling about hours of labor almost ruined and Peter apologizing as he dodges the shoe without even looking at it.

“Oh crap! Close your eyes! Don’t look!” Peter exclaims when he catches sight of Mr. Stark and Pepper in the doorway.

“Get your camera!” Harley yells.

“Light the candles!” Peter shouts back as he scrambles to get the lens cap off.

“Oh fuck he’s already starting to cry! We’re gonna miss it!”

Peter manages to get the lens cap off and hits record before he even bothers getting the camera into focus. He points the camera at Mr. Stark and focuses on his watering eyes.

“Happy birthday, Mr. St-ony-ark!” Harley and Peter sing out, their preferred names for him overlapping in a disjointed harmony.

Peter moves to the side where he can capture Mr. Stark’s reaction as well as his gift, careful to hold the camera steady. The gift is as gaudy and obnoxious as Harley and Peter could get it. There’s glitter and puff paint everywhere and the giant photo in the middle is technically a poster they had to trim into a heart shape and the red heart behind it is cardboard from a refrigerator box they found in an alley and cut and painted by hand. They ended up going with the picture of the three of them goofing off on graduation day on one side and the picture from Olive Garden on the other.

Mr. Stark hasn’t said anything but his jaw is trembling. Pepper has her lips pressed together to hold back a smile and loops her arm through Mr. Stark’s to guide him closer to the monstrosity that left a steady trail of glitter all the way from the garage to the lab where it’s taken over nearly an entire wall.

“Do you like it?” Peter asks, genuinely starting to get a little worried that they overstepped.

Mr. Stark nods but still says nothing. He sniffles as he starts looking at the smaller photos, each hand-decorated with puff paint and glitter.

“You should blow out these candles before the wax ruins all of our hard work,” Harley says.

“Stop worrying about the dumb cake,” Peter says.

“I’m gonna worry about the dumb cake. We worked really fucking hard on the dumb cake.”

“Make a wish,” Pepper says gently as Mr. Stark steps up to the cake.

He rolls his eyes and a tear escapes and runs down his cheek. Harley looks delighted.

“Shouldn’t we sing first?” Peter asks.

Harley groans. “Fine, but make it quick. The candles are melting!”

They sing a very rushed version of _‘_ _ Happy Birthday _ _’_ but Mr. Stark smiles the whole way through so Peter figures he must not mind. He seems more put together by the time they’re done. He blows out the candles and the big heart picture slowly begins to spin, hiding away the graduation picture.

“What’d you wish for?” Peter asks, still behind the camera.

Mr. Stark shakes his head and then points a watery glare at the camera. “Nothing,” he says.

Peter and Harley burst into protest but Mr. Stark holds up a hand and says, “There’s nothing else that I want.”

“Awww,” Pepper says, rubbing a hand over his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Get your fill because after we eat this cake I’m going right back to my usual stoic sel-,” The heart completes its rotation just as Mr. Stark looks back up at it and he comes face-to-face with a giant version of the four of them looking like a picture-perfect family at Olive Garden.

He crumples immediately. Tears that were barely held in check before, now freely spill down his cheeks and a shuddering breath rips from his chest.

“Holy shit it’s happening,” Peter whispers, shocked. He didn’t think Mr. Stark would actually lose it. Sure, he figured maybe he'd get a little teary like before, but not like this.

Harley seems to be so happy he’s speechless.

Mr. Stark hides his face in his hands. “I h-hate you both.”

Harley laughs.

“Aww Mr. Stark, we love you too,” Peter says.

“Alright, you boys had your fun,” Pepper says. “Camera away, Peter. I think this calls for another group hug.”

Peter sets the camera aside on a workbench but leaves it recording and pointed at Mr. Stark.

“No more hugs,” Mr. Stark whines.

“Yes, hugs!” Peter counters. He bounds forward and is the first to wrap his arms around Mr. Stark.

“Yeah, Tony. Item seven,” Harley says and throws his arms around both Peter and Mr. Stark.

“You’re devil spawn, Harley Keener. I know this was all your idea,” Tony says miserably from the center as Pepper joins the group, doing her best to get all three of them in her arms.

“You’re damn right it was! I’m a genius.”

“You’re disowned.”

~*~

They spend the rest of the day together. They eat lunch with Pepper, talking and laughing long after the food is gone. Then they go down a floor and hang out with the Avengers while Mr. Stark opens presents from them before hitting the lab for a couple hours. Mr. Stark keeps looking up at the mural and getting all misty-eyed and Harley elbows Peter every time to make sure he notices. If he didn’t have enhanced healing, he’d definitely have a bruised bicep by the time they clean up and head back upstairs.

They finish out the day by eating fondue and staying up way too late playing Wii Sports with Pepper. She’s incredible at tennis and golf and complete garbage at bowling. They eventually call it quits around midnight when Pepper begs off another rematch and kisses Mr. Stark goodnight, then hugs each of the boys before disappearing down the hall for bed.

Mr. Stark watches her go.

Despite not feeling too tired, Peter stretches really big and yawns. “Maybe we should all head to bed,” he says.

Harley frowns at him and looks ready to argue, but Peter shoots him a look and he shuts his mouth, visibly confused.

“Yeah?” Mr. Stark says, still looking towards the hallway. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. We had a big day.”

Peter shoots Harley an imploring look. Harley rolls his eyes but plays along.

“Yeah, I’m tired too. Go to bed, old man. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mr. Stark turns away from the hallway and ruffles Peter’s hair and knocks Harley with his elbow. “Thanks for today. Best birthday ever.”

Peter grins. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. “Even if you did try to sabotage me emotionally.”

“Try?” Peter echos.

“We’ll have to step up our game for next year,” Harley says with a toothy grin.

“Absolutely not. Don’t stay up too late. I think Pepper’s wanting us to all have breakfast together,” he says, pulling a face. The three of them are all night owls and rarely actually have breakfast during the morning hours.

“Ugh, fine,” Harley says. He perks up. “Is she making those crepes again?”

“There’s blueberries and buttermilk in the fridge so my money’s on blueberry pancakes,” Mr. Stark says.

“Mmm, yeah we’ll sleep soon,” Peter says. He definitely doesn’t want to miss out on homemade pancakes that aren’t burnt on the outside and gooey on the inside.

Mr. Stark exits the room and leaves Peter and Harley staring at each other, nonplussed.

“So, I’m not even a little bit tired,” Harley says after a long minute.

Peter sighs. “Me neither. I really don’t want to miss pancakes though. Maybe we should just… try? Maybe we’ll get tired with the lights off.”

Harley makes a face. “Or, we could pull an all-nighter and go to sleep  _after_ pancakes. It’s not like there’s anything else we have going on tomorrow.”

A slow grin curls Peter’s lips. “Yeah let’s do it.”

~ ** Harley ** ~

It isn’t one of his better ideas. That much he can admit if only in hindsight.

The first few hours are fine, but when three am hits and they start to flag, Peter has the stupidest idea ever. He says something about exercising to help them create natural endorphins and insists that it’ll wake them up. So they venture down to one of the many training rooms and after only a few minutes of jogging, he decides to teach Harley how to do a flip.

Okay, maybe Harley goads him into it but it was still technically Peter’s decision!

After Harley nearly breaks his neck they decide to have a jump-roping competition. It’s dumb because Peter’s stupid enhanced and Harley’s not but Harley’s never been one to back down from a challenge and it’s not like he’s not fit… Maybe he’s less fit than he was before coming to New York, but a lifetime of manual labor has set him up pretty well in the fitness department. Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt if he made more use of all the exercise equipment the Avengers keep on hand.

To both of their surprise, Harley ends up winning after Peter trips himself and falls on his face. If they were smart they’d have taken that as a sign to call it quits, but Harley’s high on victory and Peter’s desperate to recover his dignity so they decide to run Captain America’s obstacle course. Neither of them want to sit aside and count time for the other so they run it simultaneously, sabotaging each other at every turn. That’s how Harley ends up nearly breaking his ankle and Peter lands a concussion.

With the concussion, they have a real medical reason to stay awake so of course, it becomes nearly impossible. Back in the living room, they sit together on the couch, leaning on each other heavily while Harley balances a bag of peas on his elevated ankle and Peter holds a bag of mixed veggies to the goose egg on his forehead. Harley keeps having to elbow Peter to startle him awake when he feels him starting to slide into sleep. It’s only the grace of God that allows him to cling to consciousness himself.

At half-past seven, they finally hear a shower start up and Harley almost cries. They quickly put the soggy warm vegetables back in the freezer and hide any evidence of their injuries. Then they brew some more coffee and suck down as much as they can stomach. Peter doesn’t normally drink coffee because he metabolizes caffeine so fast that it hurts more than helps but this time they decide the risk is worth it. He keeps swaying in his chair, from exhaustion more so than the head injury, but manages to stay awake.

Harley feels like death. He wants this to be over. He doesn’t even want the pancakes anymore. The only thing he cares about is release from the hell of consciousness.

When Pepper finally arrives in the kitchen, freshly showered and disgustingly chipper, they’re ready to pass out. Pancakes or no pancakes. She chats with them and doesn’t comment on their exhausted appearance beyond a raised eyebrow. Tony comes in just in time to eat and they dodge his questions about what time they went to bed and why they look like hot garbage.

Harley only manages to choke down two pancakes and Peter looks like he spends more time pushing them around on his plate than actually eating them. As soon as they can get away with it, they excuse themselves and slump off to their respective bedrooms. Harley passes out before he can even get under the blankets.

~*~

He wakes up feeling like death warmed over. Which he supposes is better than feeling like death, but not much. His tongue is fuzzy and his breath is  terrible . His entire body aches but not as bad as his ankle. Fuck. It’d be just his luck if he sprained it again after it took so long to heal the first time. He sits up and stretches, carefully rotating his foot before setting it on the floor and testing his weight on it.

It doesn’t hurt too bad. Hopefully, if he takes it easy for the next week or so it’ll go back to normal. He checks his phone and groans when he sees it’s already going on five o’clock.

He limps to the kitchen and is only a little surprised to find no one around.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. where’s Pepper and Tony?”

“They went out to dinner roughly twenty minutes ago. Boss left a message for you. Would you like me to play it?”

“That’s okay,” Harley says quickly. He’ sure that it’s Tony reading him the riot act for staying up all night when he specifically asked them not to stay up too late. He’ll just wait and hear it in person the one time, thanks.

He pours himself a bowl of cereal and sits on the couch to eat in front of the TV. He sits through two episodes of SpongeBob before he gets bored. He wonders if Peter is still around or if he left. With Peter… well, who knows. He could be out swinging around Queens or he could still be passed out in bed. It’s a pretty even toss-up.

“Hey Fri, is Peter still here?”

“Yes, he’s in his room.”

“He asleep?”

“No.”

“Awesome.”

He dumps his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and walks gingerly down the hall to Peter’s room, careful to keep his full weight off his ankle. He thinks for a second about just walking in but decides against it and knocks instead. No one answers the door. He waits and doesn’t hear anything from inside the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., you sure he’s in his room?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s awake? Is he okay?” Harley asks, suddenly concerned. The last time he saw him he was recovering from a concussion, but his healing factor should have taken care of that forever ago.

“He asked me not to tell you that he’s in pain,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says.

Harley doesn’t waste another second and throws open the door. It’s dark inside; the only light is streaming in from the hallway behind Harley. There’s a small whimper from the bed.

“Peter?” Harley rushes over to the bed, heart racing. “What happened?”

His eyes adjust and he sees Peter on top of the blankets, curled up in the fetal position with his pillow over his head. He whimpers again.

“Pete-,” Harley puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and Peter flinches back and cries out. Harley immediately snatches his hand away from him, horrified. He drops to his knees beside the bed. “What happened? Are you- What happened?”

Peter murmurs something into the pillow but Harley can’t make it out. “Peter you gotta speak up. Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

Peter adjusts the pillow to reveal the bottom half of his face. “Loud. Bright.”

He’s confused at first, but then he closes his eyes, kicking himself. Sensory overload. Of course. And he came storming in here like a fucking idiot.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.-,” he starts and cuts himself off as Peter flinches.  _ Fucking idiot. _ Quiet as he can, he says, “Kill the lights.”

The lights in the hall wink out, leaving them in near-complete darkness. On the bed, Harley can barely see Peter’s outline as he slowly relaxes from the tight ball he’d been curled into.

“Sorry,” Harley breathes. “D’you want me to go?”

He hears movement from the bed and after several seconds without an answer he smiles a little. “I can’t see so you’ll have to use your words, Spider Baby.”

Peter huffs. “No.”

“No you won’t use your words?” Harley asks playfully.

With a small sound of frustration, Peter blindly reaches forward until he finds Harley’s chest and grabs a fistful of his shirt. Harley’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t know what to do. They never talked about Peter’s sensory issues outside of that first conversation when they were escaping their kidnappers. He doesn’t know the first thing about what to do here. Peter flinched so bad when he touched him before. He doesn’t know if he should get on the bed and hold him like he wants to or if he should keep his distance. And Peter’s not really in a state to let him know.

“What do you need? D’you- Can I touch you?” Harley asks.

Peter doesn’t answer, but he pulls on Harley’s shirt until Harley’s forced to climb onto the bed or buy a new shirt so he figures that’s answer enough. Gingerly, he gets up on the bed. He’d prefer to be the big spoon to Peter’s little spoon, but Peter still has a good grip on his shirt so it looks like they’re going to be facing each other. He wishes he would have brushed his teeth.

He waffles awkwardly between pulling Peter into his arms like he normally would or trying to delicately wrap himself around Peter before he decides,  _ fuck it _ and lays down on his back to let Peter come to him. It seems like the right decision as Peter rolls onto him gracelessly, burrowing his face into Harley’s neck and locking his leg across his hips.

Harley tentatively wraps an arm around his back as he brings the opposite hand up and threads it through Peter’s hair like he likes.

Peter tenses. “Stop.”

Harley jerks his hand away and freezes. He doesn’t know what he did wrong that time, but after a moment Peter relaxes again.

“When you’re through the other side of this you’re going to have to make me a list of do’s and don’ts cuz I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’,” Harley admits on a sigh.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles into his neck.

“Not your fault. I just hate hurting you.” He still isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Peter. His hand is hovering just above his head and he’s afraid to move one way or the other.

“Didn’t hurt… Just bad.”

“Okay,” Harley says, trying to keep the frustration out of his tone. It’s not Peter’s fault and he’s not mad at him, but he hates not knowing what to do and Peter’s abstruse response isn’t even remotely helpful. He  _still_ doesn’t know what to do with his hand.

It’s not much later that his arm gets tired and he hesitantly rests it on the back of Peter’s head. Nothing happens.

“Breathe,” Peter says shortly after. Harley lets loose the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and finally allows himself to relax while still being careful not to move. After a while, Peter’s breathing becomes deep and even but Harley lays awake staring at the ceiling for a long time before sleep claims him too.

~*~

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he wakes up, but Peter isn’t clinging to him as desperately and is absently running his thumb along his collarbone. He starts to pet his fingers through Peter’s hair before he remembers and stops.

“‘S okay if you want to,” Peter mumbles into his shirt.

Hesitantly, Harley runs his fingers through Peter’s curls, lightly scratching his scalp. Peter hums and melts against Harley’s chest.

“You good?” Harley asks softly, voice rough with sleep.

“Better,” Peter says. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Are you- Is everything back to normal? Or is it still too loud and stuff?”

Peter hums. “Mostly normal. Kind of… delicate.”

“Alright,” Harley says, not really sure what that means but he’s getting the vibe that Peter’s not super ready for conversation yet so he continues stroking his hair. He’s warm and comfortable and not in any hurry to get up and dislodge Peter. Judging by Peter’s boneless body draped across him, he figures the feeling is mutual.

“I was serious about the do’s and don’ts,” Harley says after a little while. “That sucked.”

“Sorr-,”

“Cut it out,” Harley interrupts. “I’m not digging for an apology. I’m just saying I want to be prepared for next time. I feel like I did everything wrong.”

“Just being here was good,” Peter mumbles. Harley can feel his lips moving against his t-shirt. “Helped.”

Harley hums noncommittally. He’s not sure he’ll ever forget Peter flinching away from him and whimpering in pain.

“I…” Peter trails off and is quiet for a moment before he tries again. “Heard your heartbeat and… I dunno. Gave me something to focus on. Shut everything else out. Helped.”

Harley doesn’t know what to say to that. Just knowing that Peter can hear everything his heart is doing makes it beat faster which is… embarrassing.

“I still hurt you,” he says.

“No.”

Harley snorts. “You flinched, Peter. You can’t tell me I didn’t cause that.”

“That’s not how it-,” Peter huffs out a frustrated breath like trying to explain this out loud is a huge burden. Harley feels kind of guilty for pressing the conversation but he’s dying to know what he did wrong and how he can be better for next time. “My senses hurt me, not you.”

“Why were some touches okay but others weren’t?” Harley asks. It’s the thing he most wants an answer to.

Peter sighs and rubs his nose against Harley’s chest like he’s scratching it without having to lift his hand. It should probably gross Harley out. He shouldn’t find it endearing. If Abbie did that, he’d flick her in the ear at minimum. He holds Peter tighter.

“It’s… holding’s okay, but rubbing on my skin was… Made me wanna set it on fire.”

“That makes sense,” Harley muses. When he’d tried to run his fingers through Peter’s hair he’d told him to stop, but when he’d rested his hand against his head he was fine. Fuckin’ weird, but it’s quantifiable and that’s all Harley needs.

Peter picks his head up to look Harley in the eyes. “Does it?” Harley can barely see him, it’s so dark. He definitely can’t make out his expression, but he knows Peter can see every detail of his face. He hopes the guilt doesn’t show.

He smiles. “Well, no. Not really. I’m just glad there’s rules and it isn’t a free for all on what feels fine and what makes you want to set your skin on fire.”

Peter stares at him for a drawn-out moment, face shadowed and unreadable.

“What?” Harley finally asks.

Peter shakes his head and doesn’t say anything. He leans forward, but then seems to second guess himself and lays his head back down instead.  “Thanks,” he says abruptly. “‘M real glad you came ‘n found me.”

Suddenly, Harley remembers F.R.I.D.A.Y. saying that Peter hadn’t wanted her to tell him that Peter was in pain.

“Why’d you tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. not to tell me?” he asks quietly, trying and failing not to feel hurt. He knows Peter pulls the same shit with Tony, but he thought they were past that. He thought Peter trusted him.

“Didn’t mean to. Didn’t wanna wake you up ‘n freak you out. Couldn’t explain.”

“Wake me up?” Harley asks. He’d been up for at least half an hour before he went to find Peter. “How long were you like that before I came in?”

Peter shrugs. “Dunno,” he mutters. “A while?”

Harley doesn’t say anything and resumes stroking Peter’s hair, more for something to do with his hands than anything else.

Peter murmurs, “‘M sorry.”

“Quit apologizing unless you’re not going to do it again next time,” Harley says.

He waits, but Peter doesn’t respond. His heart squeezes in his chest as he realizes he isn’t going to. For all Peter’s apologies, he’s still going to pull the same stupid stunt next time for some pig-headed reason that Harley can’t figure out for the life of him. It hurts way more than he expects. Peter  _said_ him being here made it better. He  _said_ he’s glad Harley came and found him. So what the fuck? Why would he keep him in the dark again? It doesn’t make any fucking sense and Harley hates that it makes him feel absolutely worthless.

He keeps stroking Peter’s hair and tries to keep his breathing as even as possible even though he feels like crying. Which is stupid as fuck. Why should he cry over some dumb boy he didn’t even like a month ago? He shouldn’t. And so he doesn’t. He waits until Peter starts breathing deeply and then eases out from under him as gently as he can. He snuffles a bit and curls up in the warm spot Harley leaves behind but doesn’t wake up.

Harley looks back before he slips out of the room but Peter is blissfully unaware of his absence. It’s dumb that that hurts too. He turns away and closes the door softly behind him. He needs to think.

~*~

He shoots Tony a quick text saying he’s going for a drive and that he’ll be back late. Then he shuts off his phone and tosses it in the passenger seat. He needs to think and he can’t do that if he keeps checking for texts from Peter. Has he woken up yet? Did he notice Harley left? Does he care?

He turns the radio to a country station and drives.

Three hours later, he doesn’t know where he is and he’s fine with that. He left the city a long time ago, finding nothing therapeutic about being stuck in traffic. The sun set around him half an hour ago, obscuring the rolling hills and farmland. He could be anywhere. He could be winding through Appalachia or cruising along the coast. There’s nothing but him and his car and the road. He stops at a lonely relic of a gas station to fuel up and it reminds him of home.

The next thing he knows, he’s pulling out of the parking lot and turning south. It’s an eleven-hour drive to Rose Hill, but he’s fully rested and the Mustang’s tank is full. For a minute, he really considers it. He thinks about driving home and surprising Mama and Abbie. He thinks about hugging them and breathing in the familiar scent of Mama’s hair spray and Abbie’s favorite warm vanilla lotion. He pictures them sitting down together for a meal at the dining room table that’s been passed down his mama’s family for four generations. He imagines racing Abbie on the four-wheelers, taking bumps too fast and making her cuss him out when he cuts her off.

He thinks about feeding the chickens and taking Abbie’s horse out for a ride in the fields. He imagines visiting old Dan at the auto shop in town and telling him all about what it’s like to drive a  _ Bugatti _ _._ He thinks about stopping in at the diner and getting  _real_ biscuits and gravy and then going next door to the bar to play a game of pool and see if anyone’s beat his high score on Mrs. PacMan yet.

Then he thinks about the questions. The questions from Mama and Abbie about why the unplanned visit. The questions from Tony, Pepper, and Peter when he returns to New York (because let’s face it, there’s no way he’s not coming back). Questions he doesn’t have answers to. Even after three hours of driving.

All he knows is that he cares about Peter more than is smart and more than Peter cares about him. He should pump the breaks before things get really bad. He’s tried letting Peter take this at a pace he’s comfortable with and in all fairness, it’s only been a few weeks but dammit he’d hoped they were closer than this. He hadn’t realized how hard and fast he’d fallen until he was walloped in the gut with the realization that Peter still doesn’t trust him while Harley’s putting it all on the line for him.

If Peter trusted him, he’d have apologized one last time. He’d have let Harley know that next time he won’t hide from him. That he won’t keep things like that from him on purpose. But he didn’t. He stayed silent.

So Harley needs to step back. He can’t let himself be all in while Peter’s playing it safe with one foot out the door. He doesn’t fault him for it, but  _fuck_ it hurts. He’d thought- Well… He thought a lot of things. Mostly, he thought they were on the same page. He thought they wanted the same thing. He thought they were taking it slow, but that they were both moving towards the same end. Friends first but then… More?

Now, he’s not so sure.

The way his Mama raised him, dating is meant to be a precursor to marriage. It’s to find out whether or not you’re a good fit and to fall in love and get to know each other better than you’ve ever known anyone else or let anyone know you. But maybe that’s not how Peter was raised. Maybe that’s not what this is to him—a precursor to a precursor.

And maybe it never will be.

Frustrated, Harley swipes a stray tear off his cheek. He hadn’t wanted to cry over this. He’s being stupid. He  knows he’s being stupid. Him and Peter are still friends. They’ve still got a shot at becoming more. They’re not there yet, but that shouldn’t be such a shock. It shouldn’t be so frustrating, but he’s been trying so hard! He’s been trying  _ so hard. _

What if Peter never lets him any closer? What if this is the closest he’ll ever get?

He turns onto a gravel road and pulls to the side, shutting off the car. The sudden stillness after the chatter of the radio, the steady growl of the engine, and the tires eating up pavement makes the sob that claws out of his throat abrasive, jarring. The second one is just as bad but the third is less so. He makes sure the doors are locked and rests his forehead on the steering wheel and lets his tears fall as the sobs keep coming.

~*~

When he gets back to the tower late that night, Tony’s in the lab, Pepper’s in bed, and Peter has long since gone home for the week. He ignores F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s message that Tony is waiting for him and goes to his room instead. Normally, he’d find comfort in working in the lab and having someone nearby but both the lab and Tony are too connected to Peter and he just can’t.

He’s slept enough in the past twelve hours that he’s not even a little sleepy, but he’s weary down to his bones. He sets up his laptop to play That 70’s Show and curls up under the covers. Closing his eyes, he tries to pretend he’s at home napping on the couch while Mama sits in her chair laughing at the TV and a young version of Abbie plays with her stuffed animals on the floor sometimes making them act out scenes from the show when something particularly funny happens.

It might have worked if he didn’t feel so damn heartsick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Some angst got in this one. Don't worry though! The next one will be... *checks next chapter* never mind.
> 
> Lol jk mostly. The fluff shall return swiftly and with a vengeance, I promise! THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the comments and kudos! The comments on the last chapter especially were God-Tier. I couldn't even respond right away because key smashing was the only thing going on in my head (I'mma do that right after I post this tho don't worry). You guys are amazing! Happy Serotonin Wednesday!
> 
> Edit: Jumping back in because I forgot to mention we broked 400 kudos???!!!! OMG holy crap that's amazing! We just passed 300 two chapters ago! I'm blown away by you guys for real you make my week every week I'm living my best life thanks to you


	11. Extra support is nice

~ Peter ~

“I dunno, man. He’s been acting weird all week,” Peter says, scurrying over the lip of a building and down the side of it as he tracks the man prowling in the alley far below. So far he hasn’t done anything illegal or even morally gray, but he’s got a shifty look about him that sets off Peter’s instincts. Also, there’s the prowling in alleys thing.

“Weird how?” Ned asks. There’s a distant clatter through commlink and then Ned’s voice is muffled as he says, “Aww my Skittles.”

“Like… just different. Distant, I guess,” Peter says. “I asked if he wanted to get lunch on Tuesday and he said no.”

Ned is silent for several seconds and Peter wonders if he’s lost connection. “Ned? You there?”

“What? Yeah, I’m here. I was waiting for the rest of the story. Is that it? He said no to lunch?”

“He’s never said no before!”

“I hate to break it to you, Peter, but you’re falling into the controlling abusive boyfriend trope right now.”

“I’m not - ,” Peter swings across the alley to perch more securely on a deep window sill and says, “First of all, we aren’t dating.”

“Might as well be,” Ned mutters.

Peter ignores him. “And second, that’s not the only thing. He hasn’t been texting me. Like at all! He used to send me pictures of stuff he’s working on in the lab all the time or share memes and stuff like that, but now he only texts me if I text him first and even then it’s one or two word responses.”

“Hmmm,” Ned hums. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound good. When was the last time you guys hung out? Did you insult John Money or something?”

_ “ No _ _,”_ Peter says defensively and then pauses. “Wait. Who’s John Money?”

“I dunno, some famous country singer. Something about a circle of fire? I don’t know! I don’t listen to country!”

“Neither do I!” Peter says, too loud. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He peeks down at the alley prowler below. He’s lurking just inside the entrance to the alley, clearly up to no good, but without a crime, Peter continues to hang back. “It doesn’t have anything to do with any country singers, I don’t think. I had- We were-  _ Ugh _ _._ I fell asleep and when I woke up F.R.I.D.A.Y. said he went for a drive and he wasn’t back by the time I left. That was the last time we hung out.”

“Okay,” Ned says slowly. “What happened before you fell asleep? Did you guys have an argument or something?”

“No… I mean, not really.” Peter bites his lip. It hadn’t been an argument. They talked about Peter’s sensory overload issues and it had seemed like Harley had taken it fine? Peter doesn’t remember very much about their conversation. His brain had been basically soup at the time. It felt like it had been shredded through a cheese grater and then melted like Velveeta into a nice chowder. He  _does_ remember leaning in to kiss him on the cheek as a thank you and then chickening out.

Maybe that’s what this is about. Maybe Harley noticed Peter leaning in and thought he was going to  _ kiss him _ kiss him. Like, on the lips. In a romantic sense.

No, that couldn’t be it. For one thing, Harley couldn’t see in the pitch-black room. And for another, he’s kissed Peter’s face before. Only once and not on the lips, obviously, but it wouldn’t be completely outside of the realm of their relationship for him to kiss Harley’s cheek or forehead.  Almost  doing that definitely wouldn’t lead to Harley shutting him out. It must be something else. Something he said that night.

“Peter, are you even listening to me?” Ned suddenly asks.

Peter can’t help his grin as he responds, “That’s a weird way to start a conversation.”

“You’re the literal worst,” Ned says. “I was  _ saying- ,” _

Peter checks on the alley prowler again and nearly falls off the windowsill at the sight of the empty alley below him. Luckily, he catches sight of a heel just as it rounds the corner out onto the street and then there’s a sharp scream.

“Duty calls,” Peter says before muting Ned and swinging out to the street. The alley prowler is booking it across the street and into another alley, a small red purse tucked under his arm. Peter doesn’t hesitate to give chase, calling out to the frustrated woman on the sidewalk to wait there as he swings past.

It only takes a few seconds to immobilize and de-purse the purse-snatching alley prowler. He has Karen call the police while he returns the purse to its rightful owner and makes sure she gets home safely. Only once she’s safely inside her condo does he unmute Ned.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says.

“What? It’s… 9:30. Did you get hurt?”

“No,” Peter says, rolling his eyes at the valid but annoying question. “I’m just feeling a bit tired I guess. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Ned sighs. “I bought three bags of Skittles to last me through the night, Peter. That’s two bags, wasted!”

Peter grins and slings a web, pulling himself in the opposite direction of home. “All the more for tomorrow, right?”

Ned snorts. “We both know that not how it’s gonna work.”

Peter laughs. “See ya, Ned.”

“Tell Harley I say hi.”

A soft click tells Peter that Ned disconnected. He should have known Ned wouldn’t have forgotten their previous conversation so quickly.

He picks up speed, whipping himself along at a speed he rarely makes it to while he’s patrolling unless he jumping to a different neighborhood. It’s a long way to Manhattan, but it’s still his favorite way to travel. The subway makes his spidey sense go crazy and taxis and Ubers are slow and confined. If he could go everywhere as Spider-Man he’d probably never ride in a car again.

He arrives at the tower half an hour later and quickly scurries up the exterior until he gets to the landing pad. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is programmed to always let Peter in, no matter what entrance he uses, so he doesn’t have any issues pushing open the glass doors and walking in. There isn’t anyone around, luckily. The landing pad is located on the Avengers’ floor and it would be pretty easy for any of them to divert him. You don’t just walk away from the Avengers when they’re trying to have a conversation with you.

He makes it into the elevator without any problems and only then pulls off his mask and thinks to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. if anyone is in the lab.

“Not at the moment. Would you like me to let Boss and Harley know you’re here?”

“No, please don’t! I uh, just came to check something real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Of course.”

The elevator opens and Peter hurries into the lab. He’s lucky no one’s here now, but who knows when Mr. Stark or Harley will decide to come work on something.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Could you warn me if someone comes down here?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

“You’re the best! Umm, also, could you pull up the security recording from my room from uh, Sunday?”

A holographic screen fuzzes to life in front of Peter showing an empty, night-vision green room and a timestamp reading 12:01 am.

“Can you skip to like… 6:00 pm?”

The recording jolts and suddenly Peter and Harley are in the bed curled around each other. Peter feels a blush spread across his cheeks at how intimate they look. Past Peter has his face pressed against Harley’s neck and a hand fisted into the front of his t-shirt like he’s making sure he doesn’t leave. Similarly, both of Harley’s arms are wrapped around Peter, one around his back and the other threaded through his hair. Harley’s mouth is open and Peter remembers he’d been snoring, but not horribly. Mostly he remembers the sound of Harley’s heart beating steadily under his cheek.

“Umm who all has access to the security feed in my room?” he asks.

“Only you and Boss. Anyone else would need to provide a level 9 emergency override code to access the security feed and recordings.”

“That’s good. Can you skip ahead to whenever we start talking? I don’t know exactly what time…”

He trails off as the video springs ahead and suddenly Harley’s eyes are open and his mouth is moving.

“Audio, please.”

Harley’s voice filters from the speakers in the ceiling, making Peter jump. He hadn’t expected such good quality and he supposes that was silly of him.

_ “Don’t apologize. Are you- Is everything back to normal? Or is it still too loud and stuff?” _

Peter drags the hologram with him and settles onto a stool. He watches the recording until the last time Harley tells him to quit apologizing and then covers his face with his hands when Past Peter fails to respond with the clearly expected  _ ‘I’m sorry’. _ He watches through his fingers as a myriad of emotions flickers across Harley’s face: confusion, surprise, disappointment. Then Harley swallows thickly and his face shutters into a horrible blank mask.

“Oh no.”

Past Peter never says anything else and after several minutes, he apparently falls asleep because then Harley wiggles out from under him and heads for the door. Peter thinks he’s going to leave but just before he closes the door he looks back at Peter and the security footage catches the moment that terrible blank mask cracks. Hurt is etched into the downturn of his lips, the set of his eyebrows, and the dull shine in his eyes.

Harley shuts the door and Peter swipes away the hologram and puts his head in his hands.

“I fucked up,” he says to the empty room. He scrubs his hands over his face and wallows in his idiocy until he can’t stand it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., where’s Harley?”

“He’s in his room. He asked me to warn him if you were looking for him.”

“Of course he did,” Peter mutters miserably. He starts heading for the elevator. “Could you tell him it’s important that I see him?”

“Of course.”

The elevator seems simultaneously slower than usual and much, much faster. He wants to fix things as soon as possible, but he also definitely doesn’t want to have to face the hurt he caused live and in person. The view through the camera was crummy enough, thanks.

The elevator spits him out on the penthouse floor and he heads down the hall to Harley’s room. He’s surprised when the door opens before he makes it that far.

Harley staggers out and quickly gives Peter a once over. “What happened? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said there was an emergency.”

“Not an emergency!” Peter quickly corrects, heart rabbiting in his chest. Oh no, this is already going poorly. “I said  _ important .” _

“Oh,” Harley says and seems to close himself off even as nothing physically changes. Peter’s heart is in his throat and they fall into an awkward silence.

Harley crosses his arms. “So, what’s so important then?” he asks. He’s not looking at Peter, instead, his gaze is fixed just to the left of his ear.

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurts. Harley looks at him then and Peter feels himself blush. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck.

“I was like, super out of it on Sunday and I… well I didn’t really remember a lot of what we talked about but I figured I must have said something that made you mad because you’ve been acting super weird all week and so I uh, I looked at the security footage and umm I realized I fucked up and I should have said I was sorry and I  for sure would have if I hadn’t felt like my brain had just been blended into a smoothie and so I… I wanted to make sure you knew that I’m sorry.”

He makes it a grand total of two seconds into the silence following his word vomit before he looks up to check Harley’s reaction, or rather, non-reaction.

His wide-eyed stare meets Peter’s and then he looks away and Peter’s heart drops.

“It’s your turn to say something,” he says, shifting from one foot to the other.

Harley stuffs his hands into his pockets and takes a deep breath before he looks up to meet Peter’s anxious stare. “So to be clear,” he says slowly, “Are you promising to tell me next time something like that happens? Or are you promising not to forbid F.R.I.D.A.Y. from telling me?”

Peter winces. “Both? And umm, just so you know, I didn’t forbid her from telling you last time. She asked if she should get help and I said something like, ‘No, don’t tell anyone,’ and she interpreted that as-,”

“I get it,” Harley says and Peter snaps his jaw shut. Harley hugs his arms tighter across his chest and chews on the inside of his cheek, not looking at Peter.

“Are you mad?” Peter asks quietly. He hates it when people are mad at him.  _ Hates  it. _

Harley shakes his head at the floor and then looks up at Peter, something hesitant but determined in his gaze. “I’m not mad, I just… I wanna be honest with you. That was the shittiest I’ve felt in a long time. I thought we… I thought you trusted me but then you said you told F.R.I.D.A.Y. not to tell me and then you wouldn’t promise not to do it again. I get it now that it got all turned around, but at the time it was this god-awful double-whammy and I still… I still feel like shit about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, voice small.

Harley takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Well-,”

Harley shoots him a sharp-eyed look. “Is everything you said true? About your blender brain and everything.”

“Well, yeah, but-,”

“Then it’s not your fault and I just… I have to get over it.”

Peter frowns. That doesn’t seem fair. Maybe it’s not his fault, but he can still help. “There’s gotta be something I can do to make you feel better.”

Harley hesitates.

“What is it?” Peter demands, relieved that there’s  _something_ he can do to get them back to how things were before. “Lay it on me, whatever it is.”

Harley licks his lips and says, “Can we- I need for us to be on the same page. Can we just… can we just check that we are and then, I don’t know. We can go back to how we were?”

Peter cocks his head to the side. That isn’t what he expected to hear. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I don’t really know what you mean, but yeah, of course.”

Harley breathes out sharply and hugs himself tighter. He’s looking past Peter again instead of at him. “I…” He swallows and looks away. “I really like you, Peter.”

Peter swears his heart stops. His mouth goes dry and his palms instantly begin to sweat. “Oh,” he says in a high voice. He clears his throat. “I um, I really like you too,” he says quickly before he loses his nerve.

Harley looks at him and Peter feels his whole face go tomato red. Oh God, this is terrible. He fights the urge to put his mask on to hide his embarrassment.

“Do you know what I mean by that?” Harley asks.

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I- yes? I mean I thought I did, but then you asked that and now I’m not sure. You mean it like… Like a… You should just tell me, I think.”

“Romantically.”

Oh holy shit he said it  _ like that _ _._ No beating around the bush. No hiding behind ambiguity. Just  _ bam! _ Out there. _‘_ _ Romantically.’ _

“Oh good. Yeah, same.” He tucks his hands into his armpits and rocks back on his heels, looking anywhere except at Harley. Peter’s either gonna puke or pass out if they don’t tear this band-aid off a little faster.

“And I... Eventually, I want to date you,” Harley says. “But not… I want to be friends first if that’s okay.”

“Yep, yep, yep. I like… I like friends. I like  _being_ friends. With you specifically, I mean.” They’re in the hallway. Why are they having  this  conversation out in the open where anyone can just walk up and overhear?

“And when I say I want to date you I mean-,”

Peter giggles and slaps a hand over his mouth. His eyes flicker to Harley’s exasperated expression and then skitter away. “I’m sorry,” he says through his hand. “I’m kind of- This is a lot. I’m freaking out a little bit.”

He’s not sure if Harley can understand him with his hand still covering his mouth, but he must because he says, “This is the last thing, I promise. I just want to make sure we… want the same thing.”

Peter nods rapidly, moving his hand away from his mouth once he’s sure more hysterical laughter won’t come spouting out of it. He takes a deep breath and lets it go. He can be an adult about this. He can scrounge up some maturity and get through this conversation.

“For me, dating isn’t for fun or whatever. It’s… the way I was brought up, dating is about finding a spouse.”

Peter jerks his head up and stares at him in shock. His fingers feel tingly and all of his pent up nervous energy abandons him all at once leaving him light-headed and breathless. When Harley looks at him, does he see a potential life partner? A spouse? A husband? Is that what he’s saying here? Is that what Peter sees when he looks at him? Is that something they could be?

Call him crazy but… he thinks maybe they could. They fit together in a way that Peter hasn’t ever clicked with anyone else. He can’t even begin to imagine what  _ marriage _ would be like, but when he thinks of his future he knows he wants Harley there and he wants him to himself. Is that crazy? It’s kind of crazy.

Peter opens his mouth only to find he doesn’t have any words waiting to come out. What is he supposed to say? Harley’s lips are pressed together firmly and he’s staring down at a spot of carpet somewhere near Peter’s feet. After working his jaw for a minute, he looks up and holds Peter’s gaze.

“All of this is only to say I don’t… I don’t think we should date if you don’t think that someday you could want the same thing.”

“I- yeah,” Peter manages. His voice comes out a little strangled.

“Yeah to what part?” Harley asks carefully.

“T-to the same thing,” Peter stutters. “I want the same thing. I mean, I  _think_ I could-,”

Harley sags in relief and then stumbles forward and pulls Peter into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around him. It takes several long seconds for Peter to gain the presence of mind to hug him back.

“You okay?” Peter asks after a minute of silent, intense hugging.

Harley’s chest expands and then falls as he takes a deep breath. “Better,” he says. “It’s been a cruddy week.”

“‘M sorry,” Peter murmurs into his shoulder, then flinches as Harley pinches his side. “Hey!”

“No more sorry’s. I’m tired of ‘em. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just… bad luck.”

Peter snorts. “That’s the Parker luck. You better get used to it if umm. Yeah.”

Harley steps back from their hug and Peter kind of hates it for a multitude of reasons, primarily being that he has to look him in the eyes while talking about embarrassing stuff again.

“Friends first though, right?” Harley asks, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I don’t want… all of that other stuff to complicate things.”

“Friends first,” Peter agrees, a weight lifting off his shoulders. “We can be like how we were before. That’s what you said.”

Harley smiles and Peter smiles back.

“D’you wanna watch  That 70’s Show with me?” Harley asks. “That’s what I was…” He gestures towards his room. “Or we could make some more progress with  Stranger Things if you think you can stay awake.”

“Umm, no promises.” Peter grins. “I like  That 70’s Show .”

“Cool.”

They stand awkwardly for another moment before Harley turns and leads the way to his room. Peter ducks his head, hiding a smile, and follows.

“Can I umm, borrow some clothes?” he asks, plucking at his suit.

“You gonna give them back this time, Parker?”

Peter laughs nervously. “Probably not?”

Harley sighs. “Yeah, sure.”

~*~

Later that night, Peter lays awake in his bed back at the apartment, staring at the underside of the bunk bed above him. He’s warm and comfortable in Harley’s sweatpants and t-shirt but isn’t tired despite the late hour. Even if he wasn’t wide awake, all the things going through his head would keep him up.

He replays everything Harley said to him in the hallway until his heart is thumping and his cheeks feel warm. It doesn’t feel real yet. They’re still friends and aren’t dating (yet?), but it’s hard to believe that everything Peter’s been feeling these past few weeks is being reflected back at him. He has to stop himself from thinking too much about it because he knows he’ll pick it apart and convince himself that Harley has feelings for only the good parts of Peter and none of the damaged and bruised parts of him that he doesn’t let show, but that’s not fair.

He hasn’t given Harley the chance to accept those parts of him yet. Someday… someday maybe he’ll let Harley see that stuff but until then he tries not to worry about it. Which brings him back to laying in the dark, feeling a lot of feelings and trying not to think too much about their source.

He checks his phone and groans when he sees that it’s just after one in the morning. It’s a work night so Aunt May isn’t home, meaning he can’t even go bug her about his melodramatic teenager problems. But… it’s not so late that Spider-Man couldn’t go out. He’s not tired so he thinks May won’t be mad if he ends up on the news. He’ll just tell her the truth if that happens. That he wasn’t tired enough to sleep and needed to burn some energy and get his mind off of… things.

That decided, he rolls out of bed and strips to his underwear before shrugging on the suit. He taps the emblem on his chest with his fist and the whole thing shrink wraps around him. He had to start wearing boxer briefs instead of regular boxers because the boxers kept bunching up weird under the suit and would chafe something terrible after a while. He’s starting to like them, he thinks. The extra support is nice.

He eases open his window and peaks out at the alley below before tugging on his mask, crawling out, and sliding the window shut behind him. In a few months, he’ll be living at the tower and he’ll be able to just walk out onto the landing pad and leap, no sneaking involved. It’s a weird thought so he puts it out of his mind. There’s starting to be quite a few things that he’s not thinking about.

The suit finishes calibrating and Karen’s voice says in his ears, “Hello Peter.”

“Hey, Karen. Is there anything going on nearby?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Okay, thanks. Hey, so I’ve been thinking.” He shoots a web at a building corner and leaps off the roof. “D’you think Mr. Stark likes dogs?”

He swings around for a little bit to get warmed up while he chats with Karen. Then he lands on a random flat roof and does some stretches.

“All I’m saying is maybe he just needs to  _ have a dog _ so he can understand how great they are,” Peter says and he does lunges across the roof. “You can’t decide you don’t like dogs if you’ve never lived with one. I mean, I guess I’ve never lived with one either, but I can imagine how great it would-,”

“Peter, there’s a building fire over in Woodhaven. Three different companies have been called in. It sounds big.”

Peter shoots a web and starts swinging in that direction. “Is anyone inside?”

“They’re not sure. It’s an apartment building so the chances are high.”

Peter slings webs as fast as he can, pulling himself faster and faster. He doesn’t have much experience with fires, but he’s managed to pull people out of a few of them. They’re probably his least favorite thing to deal with as Spider-Man but he has to at least make sure everyone makes it out okay.

He doesn’t have to ask Karen which apartment. He just follows the column of thick black smoke belching up into the sky and hopes everyone is already out. When he gets there, only one of the three fire trucks that were called in is on the scene although he can hear more sirens in the distance. The building is fully aflame and a large crowd of people is gathered on the sidewalk across the street.

“Holy crap. How did it get so bad so fast?”

“I’m not sure.”

There’s a commotion down near the fire truck. A frantic woman is yelling in a firefighter’s face while a young boy has his arms wrapped around her thigh and is sobbing. Peter swings closer to get a better look and that’s when he hears the screaming.

“Someone’s still in there!” he exclaims, fumbling to grab the ledge of the building he just swung to. The screams continue, high and panicked. The fire is loud enough that he’s not sure that anyone else can hear it. “I think it’s a kid,” Peter says, feeling sick. “Karen, scan for life forms.”

“One life form detected in the center of the building on the west end of the top floor. Peter, my sensors are picking up pockets where temperatures are as high as 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit. It would be extremely inadvisable to enter the building until some heat can be ventilated.”

Peter looks back down at the firefighters. They’re extending a ladder to the roof, but they look like they’re huddled around talking about whether or not to go in.

The frantic woman is now sobbing and desperately grabbing at the coat of the firefighter in front of her. Peter sets his jaw and examines the building. There are a few windows on the west side that don’t have visible flames on the other side of them. They’re close to where the screaming is coming from, but judging by Karen’s scan, he’ll have to go deeper into the building to find the kid.

“Karen, what are the temperature readings in those rooms there,” he gestures to the windows.

“656 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“And what’s the limit on what the suit can protect me from?”

“1,000 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Peter takes a deep breath. This is gonna suck. He can feel it in his bones. But more importantly, that kid is still screaming. “I’m going in.”

He shoots a web at a street lamp and swings across the street. There are gasps in the crowd as he flies over their heads. He shoots two webs at the building, one on either side of the window he selected and pulls. He rockets towards the window feet first and braces himself.

Just before he makes contact with the glass, he hears someone yell, “Spider-Man, stop!”

Of course, it’s far too late to stop and he wouldn’t if he could. If that kid can still scream like that, he can still save them.

He smashes through the window into nearly unbearable heat and rolls in a controlled fall. The room is dark with smoke so he stays low and scurries for the opposite wall, trying to find the door. His spidey sense is a low hum in the back of his mind. He can hear the fire, but he can’t see anything through the thick smoke. He finds the door and taps the door handle with the back of his hand. It feels warm through his suit but not hot so he gives it a sharp twist and pulls the door open.

He only has a moment to marvel at the way the smoke is sucked past him into the hallway in a dark inferno before his spidey sense goes crazy and the world explodes in an excruciating blast of orange that sends him flying backward. He smashes into a dresser and it topples, nearly crushing him, but he rolls out of the way just in time.

Gasping, he tentatively touches his face and feels raw skin beneath his fingers where his mask has been burned away in patches. Everything hurts so badly he can hardly think and he lays there, stunned.

Then his spidey sense screams and he rolls to the side on instinct, but it's not enough. The entire _ceiling_ is coming down. Something smashes against his back and pins him to the floor. He screams as whatever it is sears through his suit, melting the fabric to his skin. He manages to throw it off of him and rolls aside as more plaster and ductwork come crashing down around him, but he can’t dodge it all.

Something hits his arm hard enough that Peter feels the bone snap. Red hot sheet metal slices into his calve. He doesn’t know what hits him in the back of his head. The world is burning and he’s burning with it. He can’t catch his breath to scream. There’s a second explosion of wood and plaster and then everything goes black.

~*~

Peter wakes up all at once and he doesn’t know where he is. Everything hurts so much and it’s too bright and there’s a rushing in his ears and he can’t breathe.  _ He can’t breathe! _ Something hard is in his mouth and snaking down his throat. He chokes and gags but when he reaches up to rip it out, someone grabs his wrist.

He cries out, choking and tries to pull away.

“Peter, it’s me. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Harley. Harley's here.

But he can't breathe! He can’t breathe! Everything is too bright and blurry. He can hardly see but he sees Harley’s face as he leans over Peter, hand around his wrist and his other hand on his shoulder to keep him laying back. There’s movement beyond Harley, but Peter focuses only on him.

"You're breathing against the machine, Peter. You gotta relax. Let it breathe for you."

He can’t. He  _ can’t _ _._ Air is pushed into his lungs while he’s trying to breathe out and he’s getting light-headed and everything hurts. Everything hurts so much.

Harley lifts Peter's hand to the side of his neck. His fingers are stiff and moving them hurts, but he finds Harley’s pulse and tries to focus on the rapid beat under his fingertips.

"You're okay. You're okay. Let the machine breathe for you. I know it's scary. Just relax, sweetheart. That's it. Yeah, just like that. There you go."

Peter tries to tell him. He tries to tell him about the kid he couldn’t save. The one he left behind in the burning building but he chokes on the thing in his throat and the air that fills his lungs without him drawing in a breath.

"Don't talk, Spider Baby. Just relax. You're gonna be okay but you've got to take it easy and let us help you."

Harley reaches forward and gingerly wipes at the unchecked tears streaming down the sides of Peter's face. His touch stings the raw skin but Peter leans into it anyway.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're okay "

Peter shakes his head.

"Yes, you are," Harley insists. “You’re gonna heal all this and be just fine.”

Peter attempts to lift his other hand, but a sharp stab of pain shoots down his arm and he remembers that he broke that one. Reluctantly, he takes his hand off of Harley and points at his chest while shaking his head.

Harley frowns. "Not you?"

Peter nods, relieved that he's listening. He frowns, thinking hard and then curls his arm in front of his chest like he's rocking an infant.

Harley's eyes widen. "There was a baby?"

Peter holds his hand out palm down and rocks it up and down in a so-so motion.

"Not a baby, but a kid?" Harley asks. "There was a kid in the fire? F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell Tony."

Peter relaxes and lets the tears continue to fall, relieved that at least someone knows now, but he's heartbroken all the same. If he's in this state there's no way the kid survived however long it’s been since the ceiling fell in. Especially if the whole building went down.

Harley presses a kiss to his forehead and takes his hand in his, mindful of the burns on the pads of his fingers. Peter grips back, holding as tight as he dares while keeping his strength in check.

People are working around them—poking at Peter and moving his legs and pulling off pieces of what once was his suit and digging out debris and calling out things to each other in clipped professional tones. It’s agonizing, but Harley’s here and Peter focuses on the kiss he presses to the back of his hand and the one on his knuckles and the third to the base of his thumb.

A sob catches in Peter's chest and then he's choking against the air tube again, fighting to get back into the rhythm of letting the machine fill his lungs.

"Shhh, you're doing so good, Spider Baby. It's okay. It's okay." Harley assures him. He cradles Peter's face in his hand and Peter leans into his touch and closes his eyes.

Harley presses another kiss to his forehead and stays close, resting his forehead against Peter’s. Peter closes his eyes and wishes he could bury his face in the crook of Harley’s neck and breathe in his scent. Instead, he tries not to cry.

It doesn't take long for him to fall back into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops sorry Petey Pie :(


	12. He knows I’ve got his back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any medical professionals are reading this, please forgive me. I know not of that which I speak.

~ **Harley** ~

After Peter passes out, Dr. Cho shuffles Harley out of the way so the nurses can get his arm set while he’s unconscious and clean up his face. He wants to go check on Tony but he doesn’t dare leave just in case Peter wakes up again and needs a familiar face to calm him down. His panic and terror when he’d awoken the first time broke Harley’s heart.

Besides, Tony’s suit did a lot more to protect him than Peter’s did for him. Tony isn’t covered in burns and lacerations, but Harley did hear something about a possible concussion. He’s sure he’s fine but sitting here by himself sucks. May will be here as soon as she can but she doesn’t have a job where she can drop everything and leave. She has to wait for a replacement nurse to come in and relieve her first. She’s probably losing her mind.

He collapses into one of the plastic chairs against the wall out of the way of Dr. Cho and the nurses, relieved to take the weight off his aching ankle. The chairs are relatively new. Apparently, the medical staff gave up on keeping the Avengers out of what equates to an Emergency Room/ICU while they fixed up their teammates and provided the chairs as a means of keeping them from hovering. Harley’s grateful for it as he takes out his phone and sends May a quick text updating her on Peter’s status.

“How is he?”

Harley jerks around to the doorway. Tony is there, a frozen sponge in a sandwich baggie pressed to the side of his head. Pepper walks in behind him and makes a bee-line for Harley.

“Okay, I think,” Harley says. Pepper doesn’t say anything as she steps in front of his chair and pulls him against her chest, holding him tight. He wraps his arms around her waist and tries to fend off the tears that suddenly threaten to fall. He knows once he starts he won’t be able to stop and then he’ll be useless to everyone. He’ll break down later. For now, he’s gotta be here in case Peter wakes up again.

“How are you holding up, honey?” Pepper asks, her voice rough like she’s holding back tears of her own. It’s almost enough to send him over the edge.

He pulls in a deep breath and shakily blows it back out. “Not super great,” he admits and swallows thickly. “He was really… He was really freaked out when he woke up and I…” He swallows again and his throat closes on the words.

Pepper squeezes him tighter. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. Helen told me earlier that he’s improving almost faster than they can keep up with. Next time he wakes up she thinks they’ll be able to extubate him.”

Harley nods and takes a minute to steady himself before he leans back out of the hug. Tony is hovering behind the nurses as they race Peter’s healing factor, trying to pick out all the bits of the Spider suit and other debris from Peter’s flesh before it heals over. Pepper sits in the chair beside him and puts her arm around his shoulders. They lean against each other in silence for a few minutes, watching the nurses work. Eventually, Tony makes his way back to them and sits down on the other side of Harley, tossing his ice pack onto the side table.

“The kid,” Harley says. “The one in the fire. Did…”

“She’s okay,” Tony says, putting a hand on Harley’s shoulder and squeezing it. “I actually found her first. She was screaming like a banshee, stuck in the stairwell. Poor kid’s mom was a mess. She got one of her kids out but lost track of the other one in all the smoke. Could’ve been a real sad ending.”

“Peter was really freaked out. I think he thinks she died because he couldn’t get to her.”

Tony’s silent for a moment and then says, “Well, first thing when he wakes up we’ll tell him the good news.”

~*~

May arrives not much later and bullies the nurses into giving her gloves, a mask, and a pair of tweezers. They don’t put up much of a fight considering she’s still wearing her scrubs and her name badge from the hospital and they need all the competent hands they can get. They roll Peter onto his side so he’s facing Harley, Tony, and Pepper. May gasps at the sight of his back but quickly collects herself and gets to work. Harley’s glad he can’t see it, whatever it is. He’s already seen enough injuries on Peter to last him a lifetime.

He zones out, letting his mind drift into a static fuzz. He’s only marginally aware of Pepper’s arm around his shoulders, Tony’s knee knocking into his periodically, and the soft buzz of conversation around them. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there when his chin hits his chest and jars him back into awareness but it feels like hours.

He sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. His back is killing him from being slouched to the side for so long.

“You should go to bed,” Pepper says, rubbing his back. “We’ll let you know if-,”

“'M not going anywhere,” Harley says, voice thick with sleep that he didn’t get. She nods and doesn’t look surprised.

May is sitting beside Pepper, staring at a book but not reading it and Tony is still on Harley’s other side, frowning down at his phone. The nurses are no longer circled around Peter. He’s alone on his bed, still lying on his side with a navy blue blanket tucked neatly around his chest and he’s staring back at Harley.

Harley jumps to his feet. His ankle nearly gives out underneath him but his legs manage to carry him across the room.

“Harley?” Pepper says.

“How long were you going to lay there and not let us know you were awake?” he demands.

A slight smile quirks the corner of Peter’s lips. It’s probably all he can manage around the plastic tube still snaked between his lips and into his lungs. He blinks once, slow and deliberate like a hello.

“Oh shit,” Tony says behind him and there’s a scuffling as the three adults leap out of their plastic chairs.

Harley steps to the side to let May get at Peter’s face where she presses a kiss to his forehead and gently cradles his face in her hands.

“How are you feeling, baby?” she asks.

Peter leans into her touch and shrugs. His eyes find Harley’s again and he mimes pulling out the air tube.

“Dr. Cho said she’d take it out when you woke up. Right?” He finds Pepper behind him and she nods.

“I’ll go get her,” she says and hurries from the room.

“Tony got the little girl out,” Harley tells Peter. “She’s okay.”

Tears spring into Peter’s eyes and he nods a tiny bit, careful not to move too much and jostle the air tube. His eyes find Tony’s and he smiles again, just a little one.

“Yeah, kid’s got quite the lungs on her,” Tony says. “Glad you’re finally awake kiddo.”

Dr. Cho enters the room, Pepper at her side and walks up to the bed. Tony and Harley, step back to give her access as she adjusts Peter and the bed so Peter is sitting up. She has him perform a few easy tasks such as following her finger and telling her what hurts as she pokes and prods at him. He grunts when she touches his broken arm.

“Okay, let’s try breathing on your own before we move forward with extubation,” Dr. Cho says. “I’m going to turn off the machine and then I want you to take a big breath on your own. Don’t worry if you cough a bit. Ready?”

Peter’s eyes find Harley before he nods.

With the flip of a switch, Dr. Cho turns off the ventilator, leaving the room in a weird silence until Peter pulls in a deep breath and immediately starts coughing.

“Breathe through it,” Dr. Cho coaches. “You likely have some irritants in your lungs from the smoke inhalation that need to come out. We suctioned out your lungs a few times so hopefully there isn’t much.”

The coughs subside and Peter closes his eyes and leans his head back against his pillow while May strokes his hair and tells him what a good job he’s doing. He breathes on his own for a full minute before Dr. Cho declares that he’s ready to be extubated.

Harley has to turn away as Peter coughs and Dr. Cho pulls the long tube out of his throat. Peter coughs a couple times after the tube is out and then collapses back against the bed, exhausted. Dr. Cho sets him up with a nasal cannula, removes his IV, and checks over a few other things before she pats his knee and promises to be back in an hour to check on how he’s doing without the ventilator and to do some coughing exercises.

Once she’s gone, Tony and Harley drag four plastic chairs up to the bed and they all sit surrounding Peter. Tony and Pepper sit together on one side and Harley and May sit on the other. Harley counts himself lucky that he gets to sit on Peter’s left, the side without the broken arm as he takes Peter’s hand in his. Peter directs a soft smile his way when he does while May continues stroking his hair.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” Tony asks. “You gave me quite the scare.”

“All of us,” Pepper corrects.

“But especially me since I’m the one that had to pull you out of the wreckage,” Tony says.

“Sorry,” Peter croaks. He coughs slightly. “The kid is really okay?”

“Yeah, she is,” Tony says, softening. “She’s already been discharged from the hospital. She got very very lucky and so did you.”

“I don’t feel so lucky,” Peter says. “I feel like how May’s meatloaf probably feels after she forgets about it in the oven.”

May opens her mouth to argue, but then pulls a face and says, “That’s fair.”

“After I got you here I went back and talked to the firefighters that were on the scene to find out what happened and they said you caused a backdraft when you went in. That’s why you got toasted and the ceiling fell in.”

“Oh,” Peter says quietly.

“What’s a backdraft?” May asks.

“It’s when oxygen is introduced to a dying fire and it basically explodes. So when Peter crashed through the window the fire had a new source of fresh oxygen to suck in and fuel it.”

“When I opened the door,” Peter corrects. Tony looks at him. “I opened the door and then all the smoke whooshed past me into the hallway and then… boom.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Harley tells him. “Everyone’s gotta learn sometime and nobody got hurt.”

“Peter got hurt,” Tony corrects.

“Peter will be fine,” Harley and Peter say in unison. Peter shoots him a grateful look.

Tony throws up his hands and leans back in his chair. “I hate that there are two of you now,” he grumbles. He turns a pointed look onto Harley. “You can’t possibly be on his side right now. Look at him!” He gestures to the pink seared skin on his face, his broken arm in its sling, the multiple lacerations on his face and neck, and the bruises blossoming in dark purple blotches all over him. They all know there’s so much more damage hidden beneath the blanket.

None of it matters.

“Why wouldn’t I be? There was a _kid_ in there. What else was he supposed to do?”

“Uh, leaving it to the professionals would have been a good place to start,” Tony says. “They’d already identified the potential for a backdraft and were preparing to properly ventilate the building from the roof because they _know what they’re doing .”_

“This isn’t the time or place for this conversation,” Pepper says before Harley can let fly the heated reply on the tip of his tongue. His blood is boiling and he knows he’ll probably regret anything he says now but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be said.

“I know I messed up, Mr. Stark,” Peter says quietly. “I just wanted to help.”

“Well, next time help by staying out of the way.”

Peter flinches and looks down at his lap.

“Tony,” May says sternly at the same time Harley says, “Hey!”

“Somebody’s gotta say it!”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Pepper says, gripping Tony’s elbow as she stands. She practically drags him from the room and the door closes behind them.

“He’s not wrong, but he shouldn’t have said it like that,” May says after several seconds of awkward silence.

Peter’s face scrunches up at her words and his eyes fill with tears as he stubbornly stares down at his lap, jaw clenched.

“Oh honey, we just want you to be safe,” May says, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “Are you hungry? The cafeteria should be open by now. I can grab us all some breakfast.”

Peter doesn’t say anything and May sighs. “I’ll be right back.” Peter doesn’t look up as she walks towards the door. She looks back before sighing and stepping into the hall.

Harley takes out his phone and stands up. “Scoot over.”

Peter scoots over to one side of the bed and Harley squeezes in beside him, stretching out his legs as he taps on his phone. He hums in satisfaction when he finds what he’s looking for and hands the phone over to Peter who’s attempting to discreetly wipe his eyes with the corner of the blanket.

“They’re wrong,” Harley says as Peter frowns down at the screen.

“Online firefighter training?”

“Yep. Instead of deferring to the professionals, why not become the professional? There’s more than one way to be safe and sitting on the sidelines while people are in danger is never going to work for you.”

Peter’s eyes tear up again and his lower lip wobbles.

“Enough of that,” Harley says softly, and carefully wipes away the leaking tears with the back of his hand. He presses a kiss to the side of Peter’s head and then guides him down until he’s leaning on Harley’s shoulder and Harley’s arm is wrapped around him. “If you sign up, I’ll do it with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Who knows. It might come in handy. Maybe if I flunk out of college then I can fall back on firefighting.”

Peter snorts. “Not possible.” He frowns. “You're afraid of heights though. You know they climb ladders and stuff, right?”

Harley’s stomach swoops at the thought. “Good point. Just for fun then. You gonna register?”

Peter takes a breath and lets it go. “Yeah, why not. It can’t hurt.”

They spend the next couple minutes filling out the registration form and Harley pays for it using Tony’s credit card information that he’s had memorized pretty much since he got here. He figures it can be considered part of their internship curriculum since 75% of Peter’s internship is literally being Spider-Man and Tony is always the first to bring up how many fires the two of them cause in the lab.

After registering, they receive immediate access to the content and spend some time browsing through training videos and topics.

“Oh cool they have EMS training stuff too,” Peter says, holding the phone so Harley can see the selection on Emergency Medical Services training.

“Nice. That’ll be handy,” Harley says, making a mental note to go through those videos with a fine-tooth comb.

“Yeah! I’ve been playing with the idea of using my webs as a medical tool to like, stop bleeding and stuff, but I haven’t yet because I don’t want to accidentally make things harder for the doctors. Maybe these will help me figure out how I can do that.”

“That’s really smart,” Harley says. “I bet Dr. Cho would give you her opinion on that kind of thing too.”

“Yeah I thought that too, but I didn’t want to go to her with just an idea, you know? I wanted to be able to show her something.”

“I get that.”

The door opens and May comes in followed by Tony and Pepper, all three carrying styrofoam boxes from the cafeteria. Peter’s enthusiasm dims in their presence and Harley has to fight the urge to tell them all to get out. He ignores Tony’s raised eyebrow at Harley’s place in Peter’s bed, too pissed off to even mess with him.

“Harley, I got you the pancakes, eggs, and bacon breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you like, so I hope that’s okay,” May says, passing him a box and a plastic fork.

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“I got the same for you, Peter, but with extra eggs.”

“Thanks,” Peter says quietly and accepts his breakfast.

The adults settle into chairs and they all start eating in a horrible, awkward silence. After a minute, Pepper strikes up a conversation with May about the book she was pretending to read earlier. Peter scarfs down his entire breakfast in record time and then sneaks bites of Harley’s pancakes when he fails to eat them fast enough.

“I _will_ stab you,” Harley tells him, pointing his plastic fork threateningly.

Peter just grins at him with greasy lips as he chews. Harley rolls his eyes and trades his box with Peter’s empty one. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“I would never,” Peter says through a mouthful of pancakes.

They finish their breakfast and Dr. Cho comes back in to check Peter over so Harley slides off the bed to let her do her thing.

They spend some time doing chest exercises which apparently involve lots of coughing and make Harley glad he’s done eating. Then they all get kicked out so Dr. Cho can check on how Peter’s burns are healing. There’s so many he’ll have to strip entirely naked.

They troop down the hallway to the thankfully empty waiting room. It’s an effort to walk normally on his sore ankle, but he’s angry enough that he manages it. When they get there Tony puts his hand on his shoulder, but Harley shrugs it off.

Tony sighs. “Don’t be a child, Harley. He needed to hear it and you know I’m right.”

Harley whirls to face him. “All you did was make him feel like shit and make sure that next time he messes up he’s not gonna come to you for help.”

Tony looks shocked for only a second before his expression goes cold and stony. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know better than you.”

“Harley,” Pepper says, a warning in her tone. May is standing beside her, looking like she’s pretending to be somewhere else.

“He needs to hear this,” Harley insists, borrowing Tony’s words from before. He turns back to Tony. “If half the time you spend putting up safety nets and restrictions was spent giving him tools and training then he probably wouldn’t get hurt like this. You wonder why he hides shit from you? _This_ is why. Because instead of trying to help him learn from mistakes you slap his wrist and add more safety protocols.”

Tony opens his mouth, but Harley bulldozes on, stepping forward into Tony’s space and looking him dead in the eye as he says in a low tone, “There’s nothing we can do to stop him from going out there and putting his life on the line to try and save people. You can keep trying to hold him back, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he knows I’ve got his back no matter what and to help him and make sure he’s prepared.”

“It’s my job to keep him safe,” Tony snaps, standing toe-to-toe with Harley. “If he doesn’t think and jumps in and gets over his head then it’s _my_ responsibility to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I can’t… I’m trying to keep him _alive,_ Harley. None of what you said matters if he’s dead.”

“He’s stronger than you think.”

“It’s not about _strength.”_

Behind him, someone clears their throat. When Harley turns around, Dr. Cho is there looking at them all with raised eyebrows. “I’m discharging him. He’s been instructed to take it easy and continue doing the chest exercises every two hours for the rest of the day and to contact me if he feels lightheaded, has any chest pain, or feels like he can’t catch his breath. His burns are healing well and are at a stage where they no longer need to be kept wrapped. He’s getting dressed now so I suggest getting this,” she gestures between Tony and Harley, “resolved before he makes it out here.”

“We will,” Pepper says, sending a sharp look at Harley and Tony. “Thank you, Helen. As always, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Dr. Cho nods and turns on her heel. As soon as the door closes behind her, Pepper whirls on Tony and Harley.

“You two are going to talk this out like mature adults, but first we’re all going to be there for Peter. So stow your crap and put on a smile.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harley says, but can’t bring himself to smile.

He’s _right_ _._ He knows he’s right and he knows that Tony saying that shit is only pushing Peter away and that’s going to lead to Peter getting seriously hurt with no backup. Well, he’ll always have Harley as backup, but Harley isn’t _Iron Man_ _._ Outside of stealing one of Tony’s suits, there’s only so much Harley can do when Peter gets into trouble like he did this morning. If Harley hadn’t been in the lab with Tony when he got the panic code from Karen he might not have even known about it until hours later.

Pepper must see something in his face because she sighs and puts her hands on his shoulders. “You brought up some solid points, but now isn’t the time to hash it out. We’ll talk about it. I promise.”

“Okay,” Harley agrees reluctantly and tries to unclench his jaw. It’s not a smile, but it’s a step in the right direction.

The med bay doors open and Peter walks out, arm still in a sling and wearing plain gray sweatpants and a purple t-shirt. His arms are littered with scabs and bruises. He’s not limping, but every step is deliberate in a way that makes Harley think he’d let himself limp if no one was around to see.

“Uh, hey,” Peter says, eyes flicking between Pepper and Harley. “Everything good?”

“Of course,” Pepper says, patting Harley’s shoulder before lowering her hands. “How does it feel being up and around?”

“Not too bad. Leg’s a little stiff where that sheet metal cut me.”

“Do you think you should use crutches?” May asks. “Dr. Cho said it cut to the bone.”

“I’m okay,” Peter assures her. “I’m just going to be sitting around for a while anyway.” He glances at Harley. “I was thinking, d’you want to start watching those videos with me? I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Yeah sure. We can set up in the living room if that’s okay.” He glances at Pepper for permission rather than Tony.

“I don’t see why not,” she says.

“What videos?” Tony asks.

“They’re uh, training videos,” Peter says slowly. “Harley and I signed up for an online firefighter training course.”

Dead silence. Harley can feel Tony’s gaze drilling into the back of his head, but he doesn’t turn to meet it. Pepper glances his way as well, eyebrows raised and her lips pursed, but she doesn’t seem mad.

“I like that idea,” May says after a lengthy pause. “It’ll be good for you to get some practical instruction.”

Peter relaxes at her approval but still shoots an unsure glance Tony’s way. “Yeah, I thought so too. Harley suggested it actually and offered to take it with me. I think it’s gonna be fun.”

He grins at Harley and Harley smiles back. It’s hard not to be drawn in by Peter’s enthusiasm even though he’s still heated from arguing with Tony.

“That was thoughtful of him,” Pepper says. “Do you need anything? Notebooks? Pencils?”

“Nah, I’ve got all that stuff,” Peter says. “Thanks though. Umm, you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” He nudges Peter with his elbow as they head for the elevator, keeping the pace slow for both their sakes. Peter smiles at him as they step inside and the doors close. Then Peter blanches and his face goes red.

“What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no I’m fine. It’s just… May and Pepper are talking about us.” He wrinkles his nose.

Harley snickers. “What are they saying?”

“I can’t hear them anymore, but May called us cute.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “That’s it?”

Peter avoids his eyes.

“C’mon Spider Baby. You can’t hold out on me,” Harley wheedles. “What else?”

Peter bites his lip and crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look at Harley as he says, “Pepper said her and Tony will pay for the wedding.”

“Oh,” Harley says. And then a terrible thought strikes him. “Oh no.”

“What?” Peter asks, glancing at him curiously despite his discomfort.

“Tony’s gonna try to make it all extravagant and highbrow.”

“Oh God, you’re right,” Peter says, looking suitably horrified.

“We’ll have to elope,” Harley says, watching Peter from the corner of his eye.

Peter ducks his head and Harley’s pretty sure he’s blushing again. Harley’s heart flips in his chest and he tries to keep the grin off his face.

The past week was… objectively terrible. He _knew_ he was being unfair to Peter, but he also couldn’t stomach looking him in the face and pretending like he hadn’t been gutted. So he ghosted him. He felt like a real shithead for doing it, but it was still better than pretending. Then Peter hunted him down and explained everything, but it hadn’t made him feel any better. He still felt… precarious. Like a wrong step would send him right back down the slope he’d just been down. He hadn’t planned on confessing his feelings. The opposite, actually. But as he meets Peter’s shy smile with one of his own, he’s so glad he did.

When the elevator doors open, Peter limps out and heads towards his room, followed by Harley who is also limping. He snorts and catches up to walk gingerly beside Peter.

“We’re like a couple of old men,” he says, gesturing at their legs when Peter turns to look at him quizzically.

Peter smiles. “A matching set. I’m really sorry about your ankle by the way. If I hadn’t shoved you-,”

“Cut it out.” Harley rolls his eyes as Peter ducks into his room and starts scavenging for notebooks and pens. He leans his shoulder against the door frame as he waits. “I gave you a concussion so as far as I’m concerned we’re even. That said, if this is gonna take another year to heal I’m just gonna cut it off and be done with it.”

Peter laughs.

~*~

Over the next few weeks, Harley takes it easy. He tries to keep his injury hidden from Pepper and Tony, but that only lasts another few days before Pepper catches him limping and has Dr. Cho check him out. She diagnoses him with a mild sprain and prescribes rest, pain killers, and some daily stretches to help strengthen his ankle as well as increase his range of motion. He’s also supposed to keep it elevated whenever he can which he quickly turns into a way to annoy the crap out of Tony.

Tony and him… well, they talk. Harley wouldn’t call it productive and they definitely don’t come out of it seeing eye to eye, but… they talked. Working in the lab together can be tense but outside of lab time they keep busy and don’t see much of each other. Pepper says to give it time and things will go back to normal, but Harley doesn’t see how this isn’t going to be a recurring problem and it makes it hard to pretend like everything’s fine.

Thankfully, Peter’s usually there during the day now so it’s not as bad as it would have been during the school year. Together, he and Peter rebuild the spider suit. Karen, Peter’s A.I., was backed up to Tony’s main database so they’re able to download her straight back in. Any other outcome likely would have crushed Peter.

When it’s finished, they pose together with the suit, beaming like proud fathers, while Peter takes a picture to record their achievement for posterity. Peter, of course, wants to take it out for a spin first thing and Harley is helpless to stop him. Everyone’s been worried about Spidey anyway so it’s probably for the best that he gets out there as soon as possible anyway. Tony had made a public announcement the day after the fire telling everyone that Spider-Man would pull through a-okay and then he made a donation to rehouse everyone who was displaced by the fire, but that hadn’t stopped the media from speculating and the people of New York from missing their hero.

Harley makes him promise not to wreck it and then Peter is flipping out a window and swinging out of sight with a whoop of excitement. When he comes back that night, there’s a slight tear in the suit from catching it on a fence of all things, but he’s glowing with such joy that Harley can’t find it in himself to give him a hard time about it. Instead, he stitches it closed while Peter sits perched atop a workbench, clad only in his underwear, and enthuses about all the people who had welcomed him back and then dives into telling the tale of the epic chase he went on after someone’s dog that got away from them.

He thinks that’s the moment he realizes he could very easily spend the rest of his life doing exactly this.

Before he knows it, it’s late June, his ankle is all healed up (thank God), him and Peter have perfected firefighter carries, and his mom is relentlessly pushing him to come visit for the Fourth of July and to bring Peter with him. He should have invited him weeks ago when she first brought it up but he still hasn’t and he doesn’t know why. There’s no way they could not love Peter. It’s unfathomable. Peter is so easy going and connecting with people is as simple as breathing for him. He can’t imagine there being any issues whatsoever.

So he doesn’t understand why every time he imagines Peter in the same house as his family his throat closes up and his heart goes crazy in his chest with anxiety. That’s why he doesn’t actually get around to inviting Peter until Pepper spills the beans. In all fairness to her, she has no reason to think Peter wouldn’t already know he’s going to Tennessee within the week. That’s Harley’s bad.

“I uh, was going to invite you,” Harley says in the face of Peter and Pepper’s twin incredulous expressions. “I just… hadn’t yet.”

Pepper looks like she wants to smack him upside the head, but instead she makes an excuse to be somewhere else and leaves Harley alone with Peter in the kitchen. Harley doesn’t know what to say so he just stares down at the kitchen table while Peter stands, leaning against the counter watching him. Thankfully, Peter doesn’t look hurt or angry, just confused.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally asks when it becomes clear Harley isn’t going to be the one to start the conversation. “I mean, obviously I want to go.”

“That’s not it,” Harley says, scratching at something crusted onto the table with his thumbnail.

“Then… I don’t get it.”

Harley sighs and gives up on the table, running a hand through his hair. “Me neither. I just… I’m super nervous about it and I don’t know why.” He chances a glance up at Peter and sees him contemplating his words, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. “I know they’re going to love you so I don’t get why I’m so freaked out about it.”

Peter chews his bottom lip before he says, “Is it because of… you know. What we talked about that one time after uh, my sensory overload thing?”

Harley puts his forehead down onto the table and sighs. “I think so,” he mutters. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” Peter argues.

Harley hears him approach and is about to look up to see what he’s doing when tentative fingers comb through his hair. He holds very still and tries desperately to figure out why it seems like such a weird thing for Peter to do. Then he realizes Peter is never the one to initiate contact between them unless they’re already cuddling. He doesn’t run his fingers through Harley’s hair. He doesn’t give forehead kisses. He doesn’t reach out and take his hand just to hold.

Heart in his throat, Harley closes his eyes and basks in the soothing touch. As he relaxes, Peter gets more comfortable as well and his hesitant touch becomes sure and purposeful as he continues to play with Harley’s hair. Starting at the base of his neck, he drags his fingers up along his scalp and then lifts away, sliding strands between his fingers before repeating the process. Harley can feel his body heat against his side and every time Peter starts over at the base of his neck, his elbow brushes Harley’s spine.

“What day is the flight?” Peter asks after a while.

“Kinda thought we’d drive,” Harley murmurs. His tongue feels sluggish and his brain more so.

“Oh okay.” Peter’s hand trails down from Harley’s neck and perches on his shoulder and then the other hand joins in and he starts to knead. “What day though?”

“Guh.” Harley holds back a groan and tucks his chin to give Peter better access as he grinds his thumbs into knotted muscles. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until he can suddenly feel the warmth of his blood flowing through his veins again. What did Peter ask? “Whenever,” he grunts.

“I need a day, Harley.”

Harley thinks Peter sounds amused, but it’s hard to tell. It takes a minute to force his brain to remember his half-formed plan to road trip to Rose Hill with Peter and selfishly keep him all to himself for a full two days before he has to share him with his family.

“Tuesday?” he finally manages.

Peter’s hands slip from his shoulders and Harley mourns the loss.

“Harley! That’s in four days! When were you going to tell me? When you had the car all loaded up and ready to go?”

Harley groans and turns his head so his cheek is smooshed onto the table while his eyes stay screwed shut. “I don’t know. Don’t be mean to me.”

Peter scoffs and then Harley’s eyes fly open as he feels warm lips press a kiss to the side of his forehead. His breath stops in his throat and his heart stutters painfully against his ribs. Oh. _Oh_ _._ The reason, he suddenly realizes, the reason he’s been so nervous is because he knows his ma and Abbie will see straight away that he’s head over heels for Peter. They’ll know how gone he is and they’ll _push_ _._ They’ll meddle. They’ll think it’s crazy that they aren’t already dating. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want people on the outside forcing them together before they’re ready. He doesn’t want to freak Peter out or move faster than either of them are ready for. This is important to him and he wants to do it exactly right.

“You deserve it,” Peter says, straightening up and heading towards the living room like nothing groundbreaking, revolutionary, axis tilting, life-changing just happened.

“Where are you going?” Harley lifts his head to call after him.

“I gotta tell Aunt May I’m gonna be out of town for the fourth so she can go on her girls’ trip after all,” Peter calls back from the living room.

Harley puts his head back down and reflects on his epiphany. What’s he gonna do about _that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Serotonin Wednesday my friends! We're out of the woods and boldly venturing into Fluff City and beyond! I hope you're all out there washing your hands and practicing social distancing. As a token of my love for you all and your continued happiness in these trying times, I've decided to fuck my posting schedule to hell and provide for you TWO chapters this week! Considering the next chapter is the fluffiest, longest chapter of the entire fic you might even call it SUPER Serotonin Wednesday.
> 
> Grab the hand sanitizer and buckle up kiddies! We're going on a road trip (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	13. Eres mi alma gemela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I have ZERO BEEF with Harles (Harls?) as a nickname for Harley. I wrote this purely for the lolz.

~ ** Peter ** ~

Harley pulls up in front of Peter’s apartment in a flashy red older-style sports car and Peter sighs. So much for being inconspicuous on their road trip. Hopefully they don’t attract a lot of press. He thinks it’ll be okay since no one’s really expecting them to leave New York, but still… Couldn’t he have picked something less likely to draw attention? Why  _ red? _

Harley hops out of the driver’s seat with a blinding smile and takes Peter’s backpack to put in the trunk.

“Oh hold on,” Peter says before he can close the trunk. “I want my camera.”

He steps up to the car and digs his camera bag out of his backpack. He can’t help but notice that there’s a weird amount of stuff in the trunk. Oil stained clothes, old tools, a fishing pole, a baseball bat and glove… It’s weird. Usually, Tony’s cars are pristine and empty, existing only to be driven sporadically as the mood strikes and to otherwise sit around looking impressive.

“Is this Tony’s stuff?” Peter asks, picking up a yellowing scrap of paper. He flips it over and finds it to be an old flyer for a festival in Rose Hill. “Hold on. Is this  _your_ car?”

He wheels around to face Harley and finds him with an amused grin on his face. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t realize you didn’t know. Tony had someone restore her for me after the whole Mandarin thing.”

Peter regards the car with newfound appreciation. “Oh. Uh, they did a good job.”

Harley snorts and takes the flyer from Peter’s hand and tosses it back in the trunk before closing it. “Don’t pretend you know anything about restoring cars, Parker. You’ll only embarrass both of us.”

“I know  some  things,” Peter argues as they each walk to their respective sides of the car. “It’s… shiny.”

“Oh my God please stop.”

Peter grins at him over the top of the car, but Harley just rolls his eyes and gets in. Peter follows suit and Harley doesn’t waste any time starting the car and pulling away from the curb. Getting out of New York seems like it takes forever. It’s all stop and go until they can get to the interstate and even then it’s congested until they put some miles between them and the city.

Peter takes out his camera and snaps a picture of Harley behind the wheel. He checks it and adjusts the exposure before taking another one.

“What’re you doing?” Harley asks.

“Just getting my camera ready,” Peter says and takes another.

“Ready for what?”

Peter takes another photo and smiles down at it. “I was thinking our next Iron Interns video could be a road trip montage. I can edit it together and post it Saturday after we get back.”

He points the camera at Harley again, only this time he hits record.

“Don’t you think it’ll be boring to watch us sit around in the car?”

“We can sing road trip songs. It’ll be great.” Peter manages to keep a straight face up until Harley glances over at him looking disgusted. He laughs and swivels the camera to point out the window at the passing scenery.

“So how long’s the drive again? Like eleven hours, right?”

“Well,” Harley starts, “if we go straight there and take the interstates, yeah. But I was kinda thinking we could take our time with it. Stop some places and do some stuff. Take the back highways. Make it a two-day trip. We’ve got the time. If you want to, I mean.”

“Oh.”

Peter hadn’t been expecting a  _real_ road trip. He thought they were going from Point A to Point B in the way that makes Harley feel the most comfortable. People who are scared of heights probably don’t like to fly, right? He’s never been on a road trip before. He has so many questions. What places does Harley want to stop? Did he map out a route ahead of time or are they winging it? How long will it take? Is Harley going to be okay driving that whole time? Where are they going to spend the night?

He only asks one question. “Can we get ice cream?”

Harley grins at him before turning back toward the road. “Sure thing, Spider Baby.”

“Aw c’mon! You ruined my footage!” Peter complains. “No spider references while I’m recording.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Just edit it out.”

“What if I miss something and people figure it out?” Peter asks. His heart palpitates at the thought. He has so much to lose by his identity being exposed.

“I’ll double-check it before you post. We’ll be thorough about it. I just… I dunno. I wanna have fun and hang out. I don’t want to have to watch what I’m saying the whole time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter agrees, somewhat reluctantly. He gets it. He just worries.

Harley turns on his blinker and takes the next exit and Peter perks up.

“Ice cream?”

Harley shoots him a look. “It’s 9am, Peter. This is the way to the highway.”

“Okay, but you said ice cream.”

“It’s  _ 9am _ _._ Where are we gonna get ice cream? Nothing is open yet.”

Ten minutes later, they walk out of a gas station. Harley has a plastic sack full of snacks and drinks and Peter is digging a spoon into a small carton of horrifically overpriced mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“You want some?” Peter asks, carefully prying his plastic spoon out of the container. He’s impressed with himself that he hasn’t snapped it clean in half yet. The ice cream is stiff and the plastic spoon is fragile and he has super strength. A year ago he wouldn’t have been able to do this.

Harley raises his eyebrows and opens the passenger side door for him. “No thanks. I already brushed my teeth today.”

“Aww, beans! I wish I was recording. That’s the peak Keener sass that our viewers crave.”

Harley tips his face to the sky and closes his eyes. “Just get in before I leave you here.”

Feeling emboldened by the riot of warm fuzzies in his chest and maybe also the sugar buzzing in his veins, he takes advantage of Harley’s inattention and presses a cold kiss to his cheek before ducking into the car and digging out another spoonful of ice cream.

When Harley takes too long to close the door, he looks up, spoon in mouth, to find Harley looking down at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Was that-,” Peter takes the spoon out of his mouth and swallows. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Harley says right away, but his face is still weirdly blank.

“You sure?” Peter asks.

“Yeah,” Harley says again. He jerks his head, nodding towards the other side of the car. “I’m gonna…”

Peter’s eyebrows knit together. “Okay.”

Harley nods again and shuts the door. As he walks around the back of the car, Peter can hear muffled muttering, “Get it together, Keener. If you make it weird he’ll stop. Don’t make it weird. It’s fine. You’re fine.” There’s a sharp inhale and then Harley opens the driver-side door.

Heart thudding in his chest, Peter waits until Harley gets into the car and buckles in. He’s talking, saying something about construction when Peter leans across the center console and presses another kiss to his cheek. Harley cuts himself off mid-word and stares at Peter.

“No, I won’t,” Peter says quietly.

Confusion mars Harley’s expression for a split second before it gives way to understanding and then embarrassment. “Fucking super hearing.”

Peter smiles at him. “Get used to it. I mean it though. Unless you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” Harley says quickly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “You just… surprised me.”

“Sorry.”

Harley fixes him with a flat look. “Don’t. I uh… I liked it.” He drums his thumbs anxiously against the steering wheel and continues quickly, not letting Peter get in a response. “Buckle your seatbelt. I wanna get on the road.”

Peter does as he’s told and Harley backs out of the parking space and points them towards the highway. Peter gets his camera out again and records himself with his ice cream and tries and fails to get Harley to repeat his quip comparing it to toothpaste. Their resulting bickering is still good content though so he’s happy about it.

Less than ten minutes later they’re the only car in sight, music is blaring from the speakers, and Harley is gunning it down the open road, a soft smile on his face. Peter grips his ice cream between his knees and sneakily takes a picture. The morning sun starbursts around him, all at once washing him out and setting him alight with color. Peter’s not sure if the smile is because of him or the road but it doesn’t really make a difference. He looks soft and happy, at ease behind the wheel.

This one is just for him, he decides.

~*~

“Ooo let’s stop there!” Peter says, pointing at a weather-worn sign reading ‘Barnstorm Orchard’ in large hand-painted letters. In smaller lettering below, it says, ‘Apples, Pumpkins, Fudge, Petting Zoo.’ They’ve been driving for a few hours now and have only stopped a couple times to take selfies at interesting looking landmarks and to get lunch. The afternoon sun is high and hot in the sky but luckily Harley’s air conditioning works well.

“Do you think they’re open?” Harley asks, making the turn before Peter can answer.

He gets his camera out and starts recording. “I hope so.” He’s already envisioning feeding small farm animals and sampling fudge.

They make a left turn, following another sign onto a gravel road and a large red barn comes into view through the trees. There’s a big empty parking lot in front of it and Peter feels disappointment creeping in.

Harley clucks his tongue. “Not looking good.”

“Dang. I really wanted some fudge.”

Harley pulls around, but before they can leave an older woman in overalls and mucking boots comes around the side of the barn with a hatchet in one hand while she waves with the other. Harley pulls over.

“Are you getting serial killer vibes?” Peter asks quietly, lowering his camera. “I’m getting serial killer vibes.”

“Relax.” Harley rolls his eyes. “This isn’t New York.” He rolls down his window and a wave of heat curls into the cool air-conditioned cab.

“We’re gonna die,” Peter whispers, discreetly trying to record the woman without her noticing.

Harley ignores him. “Hey there. How’s it going?”

“Ohmigod don’t small talk with the ax murderer,” Peter hisses.

“Real good, honey. How ‘bout yourselves?” the old woman says. Up close, Peter realizes she’s tiny. He’d be surprised if she breaks five foot. Her skin is sun-tanned and weathered and her bare arms are roped with muscle but she’s petite in build rather than stocky. Her hair is white and wiry, held back from her face with a red bandanna

“Couldn’t be better,” Harley says brightly. “We’re on a road trip and saw the sign on the highway. Thought we’d stop by and see if you’re open.”

“Well, you’re in luck. We don’t technically open the store until after the fourth and apples aren’t ready for picking for another couple months, but I could use some extra hands with some fencing that got knocked over. If you boys don’t mind helping out you can have your run of the place when we’re done.”

Harley looks over at Peter, eyebrows raised in question. Peter hesitates. She’s probably not an ax murderer, but he does have one condition.

He leans across Harley so he can see the old woman’s face and asks, “Is there fudge?”

“Oh honey,” she says with a smirk. “There’s fudge.”

“I’m in!”

“Let’s do it,” Harley agrees.

He backs the car into a parking spot and Peter shuts off his camera and they both hop out into the humid, stagnant air.

“Hold on,” Harley says when Peter starts to head towards where the old woman is waiting on the side of the barn. He opens the trunk and starts moving things around.

“What’re you doing?”

“Here,” Harley tosses him a pair of work gloves and then pulls out a mud crusted pair of boots and toes out of his sneakers.

“Why do you have all this stuff?” Peter asks, bemused as he slips on the gloves.

Harley shrugs and stuffs his feet into the boots. “Pays to be prepared.” He tosses his sneakers into the trunk and laces the boots with deft fingers. “Ready?”

Peter shrugs. “I’ve never fixed a fence before.”

Harley grins. “That’s alright. You can be the muscle.”

Peter shoves him. Harley stumbles but keeps his feet and shoves him back.

When they make it over to the old lady, Harley sticks out his hand and says, “I’m Harley, by the way, and this is Peter.” She shakes his hand and then grasps Peter’s as well with a strong grip.

“Barb. I’m real glad you boys happened to come by or this would’ve had to wait until the holiday when my sons come to visit. I hate making their visits about work.”

“We’re happy to help,” Harley says, country charm in full effect. “Where’s this busted fence?”

“Well see, that’s the other thing,” Barb says as she leads them around the side of the barn towards a storage shed. Peter elbows Harley and eyes the shed hard. It’s a little run down and looks like a good place to chop up the bodies of teenage boys too dumb to run away from the old lady with an ax. Harley flicks his ear and follows after Barb, seemingly unperturbed.

“It’s a bit of a hike to get out there,” Barb says and rolls open the overhead door of the shed to reveal two four-wheelers. “It’d be a lot faster to ride out. Can you-,”

“Hell, yes,” Harley interrupts, an excited grin overtaking his face.

“You driven one of these before?” Barb asks. “They only seat two so I can’t drive us all out.”

“All the time,” Harley assures her, nodding. “I’ve been driving my sister around our land since I could reach the pedals.”

Barb tips her head to the side. “Where’re you from?”

“Rose Hill, Tennessee,” Harley says, letting more of his accent slip through. His accent has gotten fainter the longer he’s been in New York. It’s still obviously there, but it’s not as strong as it was when he first came.

“Tennessee has some beautiful country. How much land do your folks manage?”

“It’s just us and my mama. It’s not much. Something like ten acres, I think. We don’t do much with it ‘cept raise chickens and keep my sister’s horse happy.”

“You have a  _ horse? _ _”_ Peter blurts.

“It’s Abbie’s horse.”

“But do you ride it?” Peter asks, his imagination going wild with mental images.

“Sometimes.”

“Do you wear cowboy boots?” He gasps. _“_ _ Do you have the hat? ” _

Harley doesn’t answer, too busy looking at Peter, his lips pursed and nose crinkled up like he’s trying not to laugh. “You’ll have to excuse Peter,” he says to Barb. “He was born and raised in the city.”

She laughs. “I can tell. Here. You boys take this one and stick close. There’s some tricky ruts and bumps so just follow behind me. Key’s in the ignition.”

She sets her hatchet aside and straddles one of the four-wheelers. She turns her key and it fires to life, far too loud for Peter’s sensitive ears.

“C’mon,” Harley shouts over the roar of the engine, elbowing Peter as he strides over to the other four-wheeler and hops on.

“But… You didn’t answer my questions!” Peter shouts, stumbling after Harley.

Harley just grins and starts up the four-wheeler. The sheer volume of both engines echoing in the shed stab through Peter’s head like an ice pick but he refrains from covering his ears like he wants to.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“That’s a yes! Oh my God, I can’t wait. I am taking so many pict-,”

“Just get  _ on _ _,_ would you?”

“Okay, okay.” Peter clambers on behind Harley and loosely winds his arms around his middle. “Umm, you sure you know how to-,”

“Hold on tight!” Harley shouts as Barb drives off. Harley takes off after her and Peter yelps as he nearly slides off the back of the seat. Immediately upon exiting the shed, the noise becomes bearable. He sighs in relief and hugs Harley tighter and they fly down the hill, bouncing over bumps that have him lifting into the air. They zip past several enclosures and Peter catches sight of pigs and goats as well as a pen filled with ducklings.

The hill grows steeper when they get beyond the farmyard proper. They hit the valley and are quickly approaching a tree line and then it’s time to go up the next hill. It seems impossibly steep to Peter, but Barb doesn’t hesitate to drive up a dirt path riddled with protruding roots, sharp divots, and grabbing branches. Harley follows right after her.

“Oh God,” Peter says but the wind snatches away his voice and he squeezes himself tighter against Harley as gravity threatens to rip him right off the back of the four-wheeler. They roll over a root and tip to the side so far that Peter hides his face against Harley’s back and locks his fists around his forearms where they’re squeezed tight across Harley’s stomach.

Eventually, the land flattens out and Peter lifts his head only for his breath to be immediately stolen away. They’ve left the trees and are now atop a hill overlooking rolling hills. Vibrant green apple trees cover every inch of land, save a thin gray stripe that winds through the greenery like a ribbon.

“There’s the highway!” Peter shouts next to Harley’s ear, risking life and limb to point.

“Look at that!” Harley calls back, pointing off to the right.

It’s more rolling hills, but they end in a long flat stretch of green stalks.

“Is that corn?”

“Yeah!”

They roll over to a wooden rail fence. An entire ten-foot section is laying on the ground, uprooted from the hard dirt. Some of the rails are cracked and splintered and one of the posts is broken in half. Harley parks next to Barb and cuts the engine. The quiet after the incessant scream of the engines is shocking and it takes Peter’s ears a moment to adjust and register the sound of the wind through the trees, birds singing, and a strange distant trilling that he can’t identify.

“You, uh, gonna get off?” Harley asks and Peter suddenly realizes he’s still sitting with his arms wrapped around him, staring out at the world around them. It’s so strange to be able to see so far. He experiences a moment of mild embarrassment when his hand  _sticks_ to Harley’s shirt, but with a little concentration he’s able to detach and dismount.

He avoids Harley’s knowing gaze and crosses his arms over his chest. “So, uh, what happened? It doesn’t look rotted.”

“‘Course it’s not rotted,” Barb says, nudging a piece of wood with the toe of her muddy boot. “I just put it up three years ago. There’s a family that lives down the road and their boys love to come down here and wreck my shit.”

“Nothin’ more destructive than bored country boys,” Harley says, nodding sagely.

“You speakin’ from experience?” Barb asks.

“‘Course. Can’t tell you how many yards I tore up going on joy rides. Difference is, my mama’d hear about it and send me over with a rake and a bag of grass seed to fix it up. I’d spend whole summers watering lawns to keep that grass growin’ too. Otherwise, ma’d just send me right back with more seed.” He smiles at the ground and Peter finds himself smiling as well.

“You were a troublemaker?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” Harley says, looking up at him with a rueful smile. “Nothin’ like you. Poor Mama didn’t know what to do with me half the time. She says I’m the cause of each and every one of her gray hairs and 90% of her wrinkles.”

Barb says, “She sounds like a good woman for keeping you accountable.”

“The best,” Harley confirms.

“Does Abbie stay out of trouble then?” Peter asks.

Harley snorts. “No. She’s just sneakier about it than I ever was. Doesn’t get caught.”

It doesn’t take long to sort out the fence. It’s not particularly difficult work but Peter can see what Barb was saying about needing extra hands. As promised, he holds the heavy planks in place while Barb and Harley do all the hammering and leveling. All in all, they’re done in half an hour.

“Thanks, boys,” Barb says, wiping her brow with the back of her gloved hand. “Let’s get out of the sun and I’ll treat you to some lemonade and then you can explore.”

“That sounds great,” Peter says with feeling. Not only is he sweating up a storm, but he’s  _ starving . _

“Is there anything else you need a hand with while you’ve got us here?” Harley asks.

“Naw I’ve got it handled from here out.” She gets back on the four-wheeler. “You boys just have fun and then you can get back on your trip. You headin’ home for the holiday?”

“Yeah,” Harley says, mounting the other four-wheeler. “It’s been too long.”

Peter clambers on behind him and this time doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms tight around Harley’s middle.

“This your family’s first time meeting your boy?” she asks with a nod towards Peter. Peter jerks his head up to look at her, wide-eyed.

“Uh, yeah,” Harley says hesitantly.

Barb grins. “You don’t need to worry. You suit each other.” She starts the four-wheeler before either of them can protest and speeds off towards the path between the trees.

Harley huffs out a laugh and starts their own four-wheeler and gives chase. Peter rests his cheek against Harley’s back and watches the horizon until it’s swallowed by trees. They follow Barb all the way down the trail but once they exit the tree line Harley guns it and lets out a whoop as they race past her up the hill.

“Harley!” Peter exclaims, holding on for dear life. Harley just laughs and they crest the hill. He weaves back and forth just for the hell of it as far as Peter can tell and takes the long way around the animal enclosures.

Peter’s spidey sense flares to life all at once.

_ “Harley!” _ he screams before he even knows what’s wrong. Harley hits the breaks, but then Peter sees the tiny kitten dart across their path and knows they won’t be able to stop in time. Without a second thought, he vaults into the air, twisting over Harley’s head and lands in a crouch over the kitten. He doesn’t pause and scoops it up before springing to the side and tucking into a roll, barely missing the front bumper of the four-wheeler as it skids to a stop.

_ “Fucking hell, Peter!” _ Harley yells, killing the engine and tripping off the four-wheeler. Peter rolls to his feet, an impossibly small black kitten cradled in his arms, but Harley ignores the kitten and crushes Peter in a hug that only lasts an instant before Harley pushes him back. “Don’t ever fucking do that again! You scared the shit out of me!”

“I would’ve been-,”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’d have been fine!” Harley shouts, shocking Peter into silence. “I could have  _hurt_ you.” His voice cracks on the word ‘hurt’. He takes a breath and continues in a softer tone. “I don’t care if it would only take you five seconds to heal. I don’t ever wanna hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, I know.” Harley wraps his arms around him, gently this time, and buries his nose in the side of Peter’s neck. “‘M sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay.” Peter leans into him, careful not to squish the kitten.

Harley sighs and steps back, rubbing his face. “I think I just lost five years off my life.”

Peter cracks a smile. “Maybe snuggling a cute kitten will give some back. Here. It’s purring.”

“I don’t really-,”

Peter dumps the kitten into Harley’s arms, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“Alright then.” Harley stares down at the little kitten which seems content to snuggle for the time being. “I guess it’s cute.”

“What should we name it? Something ungendered.”

“What should we- Peter, this isn’t our cat.”

“It  _ could be _ though. If we ask real nice.”

“You’re not allowed to have cats in your apartment.”

“But I’ll be moving into the tower in like, a month.”

“Tony’s not gonna be happy about you bringing home a kitten.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know right away.”

“Peter. He’s gonna find out.”

“Eventually! All I’m saying is, he could warm up to the idea.”

“Oh my God. If he didn’t love you so much he would kill you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on. Besides, maybe he’s a cat person?”

They stare at each other until Peter breaks into a smile and they both laugh.

“I’m pretty sure he’s a machines only kind of person. Anything with a bladder that doesn’t take care of its own excrement is too much responsibility for him.”

Peter giggles. “Let’s catch up to Barb. D’you think she’ll feed us? I’m starving.”

“Of course you are.” Harley rolls his eyes and deposits the kitten back into Peter’s arms. “You walking?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you there.” Peter hesitates and then leans forward and kisses Harley’s cheek. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Harley says breathlessly. “Just don’t… flip in front of me or anything.”

“Deal.” He grins and Harley stands there for a moment just staring at him before he shakes his head and cups the back of Peter’s head with one hand so he can press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. He doesn’t say anything else before walking back to the four-wheeler and swinging his leg over the top of it. Peter tries to imagine the same motion but with a horse while Harley sports a cowboy hat and boots.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harley asks, one hand on the key.

Peter tries to reign in his grin. “No reason! Happy trails!” He raises the kitten to his face and rubs his nose in the soft fur to hide his smile. Harley rolls his eyes and starts the four-wheeler. The kitten startles, but Peter manages to restrain it against his chest until Harley drives off and the sound fades into a distant whine. The kitten settles back against his chest and resumes purring.

“I think I’m gonna call you Whisk. No! Bumper. Cause you and me almost both got crushed by a bumper. No! Bum _ purr _ _._ Yes, it’s perfect. Or should I say,  _ purr _ fect.” He laughs to himself as he walks at a leisurely pace towards the barn.

When Peter arrives he finds both four-wheelers parked beside a side door so he goes inside. He’s hit with a wave of air conditioning that feels almost too cold after the baking heat of the sun. The inside of the barn is… not very barn-like. He walks into a large open room with half-filled shelves of various jars of jam, honey, applesauce, and other things. The floor is polished concrete and the walls are wood-paneled and painted a cheery yellow. It’s spacious and clean.

He follows the sound of Harley’s voice through a door marked ‘Employees Only,’ and walks down a short hallway until he finds himself in a large industrial kitchen. Harley and Barb stand on either side of an island counter, a pitcher of lemonade sitting atop it as well as a plate of fudge. Peter’s stomach growls, announcing his arrival.

Barb laughs. “You weren’t kidding.” She grins at Peter and gestures at the plate of fudge in the universal, _‘_ _ have at it _ _,’_ motion and says, “Don’t make yourself sick. I hear you found a friend.” She glances pointedly at the kitten sleeping soundly in Peter’s arms.

Peter glances at Harley who only shakes his head and takes a sip of his lemonade.

“Uh yeah. D’you… I mean, if it’s okay- I dunno. Could we bring Bumpurr with us? Like to keep?”

_ “Bumper?” _ Harley echoes, wrinkling his nose.

“Bum- _ purrr,” _ Peter corrects.

Harley closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re kidding.”

“You should have helped me come up with a name if you wanted to voice your opinion.” Peter sniffs.

“What’s the nickname gonna be? Bump? Are you gonna call a cat that almost got run over  _ Bump? ” _

“No! There’s no nickname. Just Bumpurr.”

“Oh my God, you’re gonna be one of those parents. Pete, names always get shortened to one syllable. See, I just did it with your name!”

“What about yours then? I only ever call you Harley.”

Harley hesitates then says, “We’re done here.”

Peter lights up, immediately taken in by his curiosity. “What is it? What’s the nickname that you hate? Tell me or I’ll ask Abbie when I meet her and then we’ll bully you with it relentlessly.”

“Jesus, it’s not that big a deal. It’s just ‘Harles’.

_ “Harles?” _ Peter repeats, wrinkling his nose. “No wonder you hate it. They took your cool motorcycle name and turned it into something that rhymes with  _ Charles _ _._ And it’s not even one syllable!”

Harley is looking at him with so much affection that he feels his face start to heat. “What? It’s a bad nickname and you’re right to hate it. Anyway,” he turns back to Barb to find her hiding her grin behind the rim of her glass of lemonade.

“I already told Harley you can have the cat,” Barb tells him. “They make more every year and if I don’t give ‘em away I get overrun.”

Peter bounces up and down on the balls of his feet and barely manages to hold back his squeal of happiness. _“_ _ Holy crap. _ Thank you, thank you! Ohmigod this is the best day ever!”

“I still think Tony’s gonna kill you,” Harley says.

“I’ll come back from the dead and love little Bumpurr anyway.”

“That is such a bad name,” Harley stage whispers.

“I don’t care. I love her. Him?” He glances at Barb who shrugs.

“Check under the tail. If there’s testicles it’s a boy. Sometimes they’re hard to see when they’re this young.”

Peter lifts the kitten and coos softly at it as it wakes up and lifts the tail. He doesn’t see anything testicle-esque so he cradles her against his chest once more and says, “Harley, meet our bouncing baby girl, Bumpurr.”

“Please stop saying that catastrophe of a name-,”

_ “ Cat _ -tastrophe,” Peter whispers.

“-and she’s not my daughter,” Harley continues over him.

Peter gasps. “You take that back!”

“I don’t even like cats!”

“What? But they’re so soft and precious and incredibly athletic.”

“I dunno. They’re shifty.”

“She is not shifty. Look at her!” Peter hefts her forward towards Harley and she sleepily blinks around the room at the sudden change. “She’s an angel.”

“She doesn’t seem… too bad,” Harley admits.

“Don’t worry, Bumpurr,” Peter coos, kissing the kitten’s little head. “I’ll get daddy to come around. You’ll see. He’ll love you just as much as I do.”

“You’re impossible,” Harley exasperates.

“Impossibly endearing?” Peter probes.

“Shut up and eat your fudge.”

Peter perks up. He’d forgotten about the fudge. There’s a few different kinds on the plate. He plucks up a white one with swirls of pink across the top and pops the whole thing in his mouth. It’s sticky sweet and tastes like raspberry.

“Oh my God did you make this?” Peter asks Barb through his mouthful. “This is amazing.”

“I did,” Barb says, leaning back against a counter. “Once the apples are ready to pick I’ll bake some pies too. It’s not hard.”

“It took us three tries to make a boxed cake,” Harley confesses.

Barb snorts. “Practice is where it’s at. You’ll get better if you keep working at it.”

“D’you run this place yourself?” Harley asks, a frown on his face. “You repair the fences  _and_ bake the goods?”

Barb shrugs. “I like to keep busy and it’s good, rewarding work. Fall’s my favorite time of year. I usually spend all of winter making the jams and sauces and then in spring I fix up the place to get ready for the season.”

“Seems like a lot for one person,” Peter says, grabbing a different kind of fudge to sample. This one is a deep gold color with dark chocolate and little sprinkles of sea salt on top. It’s a lot softer than the other one so he bites into it and then moans. “Holy crap this is so good.”

“Glad you like it,” Barb says with a grin. “I have employees, but they’re only here during picking season and while the farmyard is open later in the year. My boys tried to get me to hire a full-time farmhand but I don’t see the point. So long as I can still do the work, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You’re like a jack of all trades,” Peter says, his mouth once again full. “It’s pretty badass.”

“I don’t see any reason to limit myself. If I wanna bake fudge I’m gonna bake fudge. If a fence needs fixin’ I’ma do that too. It ain’t complicated.”

“Will you be my honorary grandma?” Peter asks abruptly. Harley laughs. “I need your kind of unapologetic competence in my life.”

Barb laughs, a big belly laugh. “I suppose I am old enough to be your grandma.”

Peter shrugs. “I already have two honorary moms and if this trip goes right then I might pick up a third, but I don’t have any grandparents. I’ll hold the heavy stuff while you hammer and then you can bake the fudge and I’ll do the dishes after. It’ll be the perfect relationship.”

Barb chuckles. “I’ll tell you what. You boys stop back again when I’m open for business and I’ve got the corn maze ready to go and I’ll give you the grand tour and then if you still want me, I’ll be your grammy.”

“Deal! This is so cool,” Peter says to Harley. “I’ve never had a grammy before.”

“There’s gonna be a corn maze?” Harley asks, face lit up with excitement.

“‘Course. I do one every year.”

“You ever been through a corn maze?” he asks Peter.

Peter shakes his head. He just stuffed three pieces of fudge into his mouth at once and can hardly chew, let alone speak. He wants to tell Harley it sounds terrifying and that he’s seen enough horror movies to know that venturing into the corn is  _ not a good idea _ but he can’t chew fast enough.

“We’re doing the corn maze,” Harley says, leaving no room for arguing.

Peter makes a sound of dismay in the back of his throat.

“Suck it up, Parker. We’re doing it. If I’m gonna raise a kitten with you then you can do a corn maze for me.”

Peter considers this and then shrugs. It sounds like a fair enough deal. And statistically speaking, since they’re both young white males, they  _probably_ won’t die.

Harley stops him from finishing the entire plate of fudge in one sitting and Peter’s kind of grateful because he’s starting to feel a bit queasy from all the sugar after being out in the heat. Harley tops off his glass of lemonade and hands it to him. Peter downs it gratefully.

“C’mon, let’s go check out the animals and then we should get back on the road,” Harley says.

“You’ve got a long way to go if you’re going all the way to Tennessee,” Barb says.

“Yeah we’re gonna stop for the night somewhere,” Harley says. “I was hoping to get past Maryland before we call it a day.”

Barb nods thoughtfully. “The Monongahela is gorgeous if you can spare the time for another stop.”

“What’s that?” Peter asks.

“It’s a national forest we’ll be passing on our way in,” Harley explains. “We’ll see if we have time tomorrow. If not, maybe we’ll hit it up on the way back. I bet you’ll be able to get some amazing pictures.”

“Pictures!” Peter exclaims, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I left my camera in the car! I’ll be right back!”

He doesn’t wait for a response before shoving Bumpurr into Harley’s arms and bolting down the short hall and out through the door where the heat hits him like a brick to the face. Luckily, the car isn’t locked so he ducks in and snatches up his camera. He checks the battery and it’s still good so he sets about getting the exposure right.

He takes several pictures of the barn with Harley’s car in the foreground until he’s satisfied with how they come out. He deletes all the bad ones and when he turns and starts jogging back around the barn he finds Harley and Barb waiting for him. Harley is holding Bumpurr like a bomb ready to go off at any moment but Peter considers it bonding all the same.

“Oh hey. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I hear you’re pretty good with that,” Barb says with a nod towards his camera.

“I do alright,” Peter says.

“Show her,” Harley says.

Peter makes a face, but pulls up the history and passes it over for her to browse through. She pulls a smushed pair of reading glasses out of her breast pocket and perches them crookedly on her nose. He crosses his arms over his chest and tries not to fidget too much as he watches her face. She smiles a few times, but mostly she frowns as she clicks through.

Peter strains to remember what all he has on this memory card and comes up short. There’s everything from their trip so far, but that just amounts to an embarrassing number of pictures of Harley, some landscape shots, and a couple of selfies of them together. He doesn’t remember what was on it from before today.

“You’re right,” she says to Harley as she hands the camera back to Peter and takes off the glasses, tucking them back in her pocket. “What are your rates?” she asks Peter.

Peter jerks back and cradles his camera against his chest protectively. “I- What? There aren’t rates. It’s just for fun.”

“Well, I been meaning to get a website up and running. One of my boys has been pushing for it for a while now, but I need pictures.”

“I could- I’ll just take some. Pictures, I mean. It’s- I can’t charge my  _ grammy _ _,”_ Peter exclaims.

Barb laughs. “I’ll tell you what. When you come back you can take some pictures and I’ll give you a few boxes of fudge and a pie in exchange.”

Peter chews his bottom lip. “Alright, deal.”

“Perfect. Well, that’s business settled. You boys have a good time out there and come find me before you take off.”

They spend an hour petting goats and patting pigs and cooing at ducklings. Harley mostly keeps hold of Bumpurr so Peter can take pictures and record for their video. By the end of the hour, they’re both sweaty and smelly but Harley seems a lot more comfortable with Bumpurr and Peter’s got some good footage for their video, not to mention several adorable pictures of Harley and their daughter. They find Barb inside the big barn, stocking jam jars onto shelves. Turns out she fixed up a little care package for them consisting of mostly fudge and cat food but also a jar of jam for Harley’s mom.

“I don’t have any litter. All these cats are outside cats, so you should probably figure out where the little one is going to do her business while you’re on the road.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Harley says, but he’s still holding Bumpurr even though Peter’s hands are free.

“It’ll be fine,” Peter says. “We’ll just set her out in the dirt when we stop and she’ll either go or she won’t. If we need to we can make a little travel litter pan for the backseat.”

“That’s not happening,” Harley says, resolute.

Peter shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Such a bad idea,” Harley mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

Peter ignores him.

With their care package carefully tucked away into the backseat, Peter convinces Barb to take a selfie with the two of them in front of the red barn and then he and Harley take turns hugging her goodbye and promise to come back in a couple months. A minute later, they’re in the car turning back onto the main highway. Peter has Bumpurr in his lap and his camera in his hand, clicking through pictures. He gets to the video from the beginning of their trip and clicks past it.

“Oh,” he says, staring down at the picture.

“What?” Harley asks.

“Did you see how far back she looked through my pictures?”

“Uh, no? Did she see something she shouldn’t have?”

“I… dunno. Maybe.”

“What is it?”

“It’s uh- Remember after we finished rebuilding my suit? And we took a selfie with it?”

“Oh,” Harley says. “Oh no. D’you think she knows?”

Peter shakes his head. “I mean, I’m not wearing it. We’re just holding it.  If  she scrolled back this far she probably only figured out that we’re Mr. Stark’s interns. I don’t think it’s enough to make the connection that I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well let’s just hope she didn’t go that far.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, somewhat woodenly. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal. He hopes it’s not a big deal. She didn’t act any different towards them afterward so it’s probably fine. Right?

~ ** Harley ** ~

They drive another few hours before Harley starts feeling tired enough to think about stopping for the night. They’ve still got a couple hours before the sun sets though so he wants to stop in a town with 1.) somewhere good to eat and 2.) something fun to do.

They end up landing in a town just outside the Monongahela National Forest. They drive around for a little bit before they spot a sign outside a local hotel that touts their small town hospitality. Peter checks the website and finds out they’ve got free WiFi and free continental breakfast. Technically, there’s no pets allowed, but they figure what the staff doesn’t know, they won’t get billed extra for.

They go inside and book a room and only fumble a little when the concierge assumes they want two beds. In the room, they dump their bags on one of the queen-sized beds and then make a trip to a local pet store where they buy a cheap litter pan, scoop, litter, some cute ceramic food and water dishes, a few toys, and a carrier. Peter says they won’t need the carrier because Bumpurr is a good girl and doesn’t cause trouble, but Harley insists. He’s not gonna risk needing a carrier and not having one.

They leave Bumpurr to entertain herself in the hotel room with all her new gear and get dinner at a local diner. Then Harley takes Peter fishing with what little sun they’ve got left. He figures they don’t need much time because Peter’s bound to get bored fast anyway.

He’s right, but he’s also wrong. Peter fishes for about 20 minutes before passing the pole back to Harley and picking up his camera. He tromps around in the mud and takes pictures of anything and everything while Harley is left content on the bank of the lake, pole in hand.

Eventually, Peter ends up settling down beside him with his head on his shoulder while he films the sunset over the lake. It clouded over sometime during the evening and the sun casts beautiful shades of pink and orange across the clouds. Even after the sun has set and Peter has set aside his camera for the night, they stay on the bank, line in the water, bait long gone, and listen to the crickets and the frogs.

“What  is  that?” Peter asks.

“What’s what?” Harley asks, scanning the dark lake and wondering if Peter can see something that he can’t with his normal human vision.

“That sound. I heard it back at Barb’s too when we were out at the fence.

“Oh, it’s just frogs.”

_ “Frogs?! _ Cool! I didn’t think they were so… musical.”’

Harley laughs and nudges Peter with his elbow. “You’re such a city boy, Parker.”

When they get back to the hotel, they shuck off their muddy, sweaty clothes and crawl into bed together. It’s the perfect end to the perfect day as far as Harley’s concerned. He drops off to sleep almost immediately.

~*~

He wakes up sprawled on his belly to weak rays of morning sunshine on his face and a laugh track playing softly under rapid Spanish. He shifts and suddenly there’s a hand in his hair, gently playing with the strands. He goes boneless and a sigh escapes his lips. He doesn’t fall back asleep, but he lets his mind wander sleepily. He doesn’t know how much time passes but slowly, he becomes more aware of his surroundings. Namely, that Peter is sitting beside him leaning back against the headboard with his hand on Harley’s head occasionally laughing at what sounds like a Hispanic soap opera.

With an unhappy grunt, Harley crawls over and plops his head down into Peter’s lap. Peter snorts, amused, and switches which hand is playing with Harley’s hair so he can wrap the other around his shoulders.

“Morning,” Peter says softly. “Did I wake you up?”

Harley grunts and wraps his arms around Peter’s waist, head pillowed on his thigh. He’s not sure what woke him up. “What’re you watchin’?”

“I have no idea but I’m invested,” Peter says with way more enthusiasm than Harley is prepared for this early. “They’re trying to paint Rodrigo as a serial killer, but I think they’re going to throw in a plot twist later. And Maria is in love with Carlos but Carlos is actually her long lost twin brother and hasn’t found a way to spill the beans yet and it’s just getting more and more complicated because every time they spend time together she falls a little harder and he’s like  _ no no solo amigos! _ But she’s like,  _ eres mi alma gemela. _ And her adoptive Abuela is in the hospital on life support so she’s already in a fragile emotional state and Carlos feels like if he tells her now then she’ll fall apart. Oh and her best friend hates him because she thinks he’s secretly married or something because he’s acting so weird.”

Harley takes a moment to process all of that and then asks, “How long have you been up?”

“Hmm? Oh, only like 20 minutes.”

“Have you… watched this show before?”

“Nope, but I’m definitely going to see if Tony gets this channel. I gotta know what happens next.”

Harley gives up trying to figure out how all of that could possibly take place in only 20 minutes and lets himself fall into a light almost sleep state that lasts until Peter kisses the top of his head and tells him they’re going to miss free breakfast if they don’t head out now.

“But I’m comfy,” Harley says without opening his eyes.

“Then I guess I’ll have to make you un-comfy.”

“No,” Harley says and clings tighter around his waist as Peter tries to get up.

“Don’t make me tickle you,” Peter threatens. “C’mon, I ran out of fudge and I’m starving. We’ll snuggle more later.”

Harley sighs. “My mom’s probably gonna make us sleep separate.”

“Oh,” Peter says. “Did you tell her about, umm…”

“No but… I think it’ll be kind of obvious that we- I mean that I… feel like that and I don’t want to pretend or anything. So she’s probably not going to be cool with us sleeping in the same room. She’s pretty traditional.”

“Oh,” Peter says again. There’s a pause and then he says, “Maybe a couple more minutes then.”

Harley’s heart flips and warmth floods his chest.

“What else happened in your soap?” he asks after a few seconds of quiet.

“Oh you are not going to believe this,” Peter says and then bursts into a rambling explanation of the characters and the, quite frankly,  _wild_ plot points. Harley flunked out of Spanish so he understands maybe five words of the language but prior to this morning, he thought Peter seemed to have a pretty good grasp of it. After listening to his summary of the show though, he can’t help but wonder if some things were missed in translation.

“How sure are you that they said ‘cannibal’?” he asks.

“One hundred percent!” Peter says. “They spend like two whole minutes talking about it and miming eating each others’ fingers.”

“What the fuck.”

“Riigght?! Oh man, I can’t wait for the next episode.”

Peter’s stomach growls and Harley sighs, knowing their time is up.

“It’s only two nights,” Peter says. “Then we can go back to normal.”

“I know. I’m just being a baby about it.”

Peter hugs Harley’s head to his stomach in a way that isn’t at all comfortable. “You may be a baby, but you’re my baby!”

“Get off!” Harley shoves at him until he can wiggle free and sits up with a glare. “You’re the worst.”

“Breakfast, Harley! C’mon or we’ll have to pay money somewhere else.”

_ “ Fine _ _,”_ Harley sighs. “Where’s the cat?”

Peter’s face lights up and he scurries off the bed. “Check this out.”

Harley reluctantly crawls off the bed and follows Peter to the bathroom.

“Shhh,” Peter says and silently pushes the door open. Harley peaks around the door frame and can’t help the smile that crosses his lips. Bumpurr is curled up in a ball in the sink. It looks like Peter tried to cushion it for her after the fact with his t-shirt from yesterday.

“Did you already get a picture?” Harley asks quietly.

“So many pictures,” Peter confirms.

“How am I supposed to brush my teeth?”

“Let’s worry about that after breakfast.”

“But I don’t want to go out there with rancid breath.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only singed off like three of my nose hairs so far. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You’re in a mood this morning,” Harley grumbles. He’s not awake enough yet for banter. Maybe after coffee.

“I’m happy,” Peter says with a shrug and Harley’s heart palpitates. “Let’s go eat.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

They keep to themselves at breakfast. Peter scarfs down the remainder of the eggs and the sausage and Harley feels a bit bad about it, but he knows Peter needs the protein and breakfast is ending in ten minutes anyway so it’s probably fine.

Harley slurps down one of those tiny paper travel cups of coffee and then fills two more for the road. Both for him. Peter doesn’t get coffee. Harley’s only seen him after drinking coffee once and he went crazy hyper for about ten minutes as his body metabolized the caffeine all at once and then he crashed  _ hard _ _._ It would have been painful to watch if it hadn’t been so fucking funny. He was literally bouncing off the walls.

“Did you want to hit up the Monongahela today?” Harley asks as they pack up their bags. There’s not much to pack considering they didn’t do anything in their room other than sleep. It’s mostly cat stuff. “I bet we could get some really good pictures.”

“Yeah, I was thinking it’d be super fun to let Bumpurr wander a bit and take some pictures of her doing cat things.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Are you sure she does cat things? All I’ve ever seen her do is sleep, eat, and poop.”

Peter scratches his nose. “I think that covers most of the cat things actually.”

~*~

They spend most of the day in the Monongahela relaxing and enjoying not having an agenda. The clouds from last night are still sticking around, but Peter insists that clouds are better for pictures than blinding sun anyway and Harley is inclined to believe him. They both resolutely ignore how the clouds darken as the day progresses and Harley ignores the stiffness in his ankle that always seems to start up before it rains.

Bumpurr is surprisingly well-behaved and the one time she bolts up a tree after a squirrel Peter is able to scurry right up after her to retrieve her before anyone else walks by. They get some really cute pictures and Peter maxes out his SD card and they have to run to the car for his back up.

They mostly just walk around and take in the scenery. Peter does a little free climbing that shouldn’t be physically possible but Harley’s pretty sure no one else sees. They have a sad granola bar lunch on the river bank but the water fight they get into afterward more than makes up for it. Peter grins at him, water dripping from the ends of his hair and Harley wants to kiss him.

He’s beginning to wonder what exactly he’s waiting for.

They’re a mile away from the car when the clouds finally break. It’s fine at first, only a light rain that makes them grin at each other as Peter tucks Bumpurr under his still slightly damp shirt to keep her dry. Then the wind picks up and the rain starts pelting down in large almost painful drops and they trade glances before starting to run.

When they make it to the car they’re shivering and soaked to the bone as lightning flashes and thunder cracks across the sky. Bumpurr yowls from under Peter’s drenched shirt as they fall into the car and pull the doors shut. Peter releases her and she leaps off of him with a hiss and scurries under the seat.

They’re both dripping all over the leather and Harley can’t stop shivering.

“Lemme see,” he says, reaching for Peter’s shirt.

Peter lifts it, revealing a toned stomach with a few light scratches and two that look kinda deep and are bleeding sluggishly.

“That’s not too bad,” Harley says.

“Yeah, it won’t take long to heal,” Peter says, using the hem of his shirt to dab away the blood.

Harley starts the car and cranks up the heat. It’ll take a few minutes to get warm and in the meantime they’ll have to shiver it out. They’ve already managed to fog up the windows.

“The clothes are all in the trunk, aren’t they?” Peter says, teeth chattering.

“Yeah.” Harley sighs. “I’ll go get them.”

“I can-,”

“You already got all scratched up. I can get the clothes,” Harley says and then pops open his door before Peter can argue. He hurries around to the trunk and pulls out both of their bags as well as a couple of slightly crusty towels that don’t smell  too  bad. There’s a flash of lightning as Harley slams the trunk and jogs back around to dive into the car.

He shakes his hair out of his eyes and then nearly slips right off the end of his seat when he sees Peter sitting shirtless and trembling in the passenger seat. He tries desperately not to gawk. It’s not the first time he’s seen Peter shirtless, hell, he’s seen him in nothing but his underwear plenty of times, but the past two days have him all out of sorts where Peter is concerned.

“Here,” Harley says gruffly, shoving a towel at Peter and then focuses on sorting out the bags in his lap.

“Uh, thank-  Gross . This stinks!” he exclaims, holding the towel as far away from him as possible.

“I didn’t think it was too bad.”

“Enhanced smell, remember?” Peter says, making a face. “This is awful. What was this used for?”

“Uhh, I think it’s been back there since last time me and Abbie went swimming at the pond.”

Peter stares at him. “So for like a year it’s been growing mildew in your trunk and now I’m touching it? Harley I don’t- Please take this from me. I don’t want it. I’ll just die, thanks.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a baby,” Harley grumbles and takes the towel and throws it into the backseat.

“I can still smell it,” Peter says, face apparently stuck in a perpetual grimace. “Can we just throw it away?”

“Are  _you_ gonna walk it out to a trash can?”

Peter pouts at the rain-slicked window. “Can’t you drive up to it and then I’ll throw it out really fast?”

Harley sighs and turns on the headlights before shifting into drive. “You gotta touch it again if you’re going to throw it away.”

Peter makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat but leans into the backseat to grab the offending towel. Harley drives the car as close to the trash can as possible and then Peter leans out the window and successfully tosses the towel into it.

Wordlessly, Harley hands him the second towel.

“Oh my  _ God _ _,”_ Peter says and violently hurls it into the trash with its partner.

They end up drying off with their dirty clothes from yesterday which is… not preferable but better than getting their clean dry clothes all wet. Harley climbs into the backseat for the extra leg and elbow room to change his pants and when he’s done he collapses back against the seat, exhausted.

“Make room. I’m coming back there,” Peter says, levering himself up between the front seats.

“There’s really not a lot of- Okay,” Harley squishes to one side as Peter squeezes himself between the two front seats.

“Shit, sorry,” Peter says after stepping on Harley’s foot and almost elbowing him in the face. He lands gracelessly in the backseat, half on Harley with one foot still sticking through the gap between the front seats, and grins sheepishly up at him. “There’s not a lot of space back here, is there?”

“No,” Harley says, trying to convince his heart to calm down. With his head on Harley’s chest, he’s 100% sure that Peter can hear the way it’s thundering out of control. He frees his arm from under Peter and wraps it around him as Peter manages to extract his foot from between the seats and then snuggles more comfortably against his side. The heater is finally blowing hot air and with dry clothes and Peter curled up against him, he’s starting to warm up.

“Hey Harley,” Peter says after a few minutes of listening to the rain pound on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder.

“Hmmm?”

“D’you… I was wondering… I don’t- Ugh. Never mind.”

“What is it?” Harley asks, shifting so he can look down at Peter. Peter’s head is on his chest and his chin is tucked down so Harley can’t see his face.

“It’s dumb,” Peter mumbles. “Just forget I said anything.”

“I doubt it’s dumb,” Harley says. “And if it is, so what? You say dumb stuff all the time.”

“Ha ha. It’s… I dunno.”

Harley licks his lips. “Is it about us?”

“Yeah,” Peter admits quietly.

“Then I wanna know,” Harley says. “I don’t want… I want us to be on the same page. Always. I want you to trust me.”

“I  _ do _ _,”_ Peter says, emphatically. “I just… I don’t want to make things awkward.”

Harley’s heart trips. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks. He doesn’t breathe as he waits for the answer.

“No!” Peter sits up and looks him in the eye, his cheeks dusted pink. “The opposite. I just- I was thinking- Ugh! Why is this so  _ hard? _ _”_ He falls forward and hides his face against Harley’s shirt again.

Harley sifts his fingers through Peter’s wet hair and says, “Just blurt it out really fast.”

Peter takes a deep breath and releases it in a sharp exhale. “D’you remember why we decided not to date?” he asks in a rush. “ Yet , I mean. Like we said we would be friends first and wait but I… It doesn’t-,”

Harley’s mind is awhirl. Is this happening? Is it now? He licks his lips again. “It doesn’t make sense anymore,” he says carefully, guessing at what Peter is trying to get out. “I was sort of thinking the same thing earlier.”

Peter sits up and turns his upper body to face him. “You were? When?”

Harley bites his lip and turns his head. There are so many moments he could tell him about spanning back  _ weeks _ _._ He’s a hypocrite for sure. He picks the most recent one. “I- At the river today. You were- I dunno. You looked at me and I just… I realized I wanted to kiss you but I-,”

“Why didn’t you?” Peter asks. He puts a finger to Harley’s chin and turns his head so he’s facing him.

“Why didn’t I tell you?”

“Why didn’t you kiss me,” Peter corrects.

Harley’s mouth goes dry as he realizes how close their faces are. If he was braver he could simply lean forward and their lips would be touching. “I- We’re supposed to be friends.”

Peter meets his gaze and says, “I don’t wanna be friends.”

Harley’s chest feels tight and his lungs don’t seem to be working right as he says, “Me neither.”

Peter’s lips flick up into a little smile. “Does that mean you’ll kiss me now?”

Harley laughs breathlessly. “I’ve actually- I’ve never-,” He looks down at his lap. His hand is clenched around the hem of his shirt so hard his knuckles are white. He focuses on relaxing his grip and says, “I haven’t kissed anyone before. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh. So should I- D’you want me to show you?”

Harley snaps his head up to look at Peter and all the air vanishes from his lungs. He’s already looking at him, big brown eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. He looks vibrant and alive and Harley very desperately wants to kiss him.

He nods.

Peter bites his lip and scoots closer until their thighs are touching. “So umm, you just, like this.” He ducks forward and Harley barely has time to close his eyes before their lips are brushing. It’s over in a blink and when Harley opens his eyes Peter is staring at him, biting his lip.

“Can we- I don’t know if I’ve got it yet. Maybe one more time, but uh, slower. So I can make sure I understand how it works.”

A slow grin curls Peter’s lips. “Yeah, so umm. You can also, if it helps, you can- Like this.” He reaches out a hand and puts it on Harley’s cheek and leans in until their noses almost brush.

Harley closes his eyes and he’s barely breathing and then Peter’s lips press against his, warm and soft. This time Harley has time to lean into it and he reaches out and threads his fingers through Peter’s damp curls. Peter sighs into the kiss and presses closer, running his thumb along Harley’s cheekbone.

Harley breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Peter’s, happiness bubbling in his chest. “I think I’ve got it now.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asks, breathless.

Harley laughs and leans in to press a slow kiss to Peter’s lips. “Like that?”

“Hmm maybe. I couldn’t really-,”

Harley kisses him again and has to tamp down the laugh that threatens to bubble out of his throat. Why did he wait so long for this? But also, thank God he waited so long for this. He wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“That was- Yeah, I think you’ve got it,” Peter says when they break apart next.

Harley cups Peter’s face in his hands and places a quick kiss to his lips before he says, “In the interest of making sure we’re both on the same page, I really really really like you.”

“I uh, good,” Peter says, leaning into his touch and smiling softly. “Because I really really really like you too.”

“So are we, umm… dating?”

Peter bites his lip but can’t hide the smile blooming there. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

“I can call you my boyfriend?” Harley asks.

“Only if I can call you mine.”

“Deal.”

~*~

Hours later they’re driving only now they’re racing the clock as the sun slowly sinks lower in the sky. He’s tempted to drag out their trip for another night, but tomorrow is the fourth and they always go to the parade in Marville, the next town over, first thing in the morning. He knows Abbie will be super disappointed if they miss it and he knows Peter’s gonna love it. Still, it’s hard not to be selfish and keep Peter to himself for another night.

They sing along to Peter’s road trip playlist at the tops of their lungs while Bumpurr sleeps in Peter’s lap, their earlier run through the rain apparently forgiven. Despite taking the interstate, the scenery is still gorgeous, at least in Harley’s opinion. Maybe he’s biased. To him, it looks like home.

Maybe not  too biased though judging by how much time Peter spends recording out the window.

The sun sets early, obscured by thick lingering clouds, and Harley is starting to feel the miles, but they’re only an hour out so he pushes through it. He’s starting to get excited again. He missed home a lot these past months and him and Peter will have plenty of time to settle into their relationship after this trip. He’s dying to wrap Mama and Abbie in a big tight hug and have a family dinner and sit around and watch TV just like they used to.

They’re thirty minutes out when Harley really starts feeling the past seven hours of nothing but staring at the road. They’re so close but he’s flagging fast. Beside him, Peter is fiddling with his phone, the light reflecting bluish-white on his face, and Bumpurr has long since abandoned his lap in favor of napping under his seat.

Peter catches Harley glancing at him. “Still good?” he asks, tucking away his phone.

“Yeah,” Harley says. It’s only a little lie. “I’m just ready to be there already.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, tapping his fingers restlessly against his thigh.

“You okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah. Just… nervous.”

“They’re gonna love you,” Harley assures him, not for the first time.

“Yeah,” Peter says, but he continues to frown and fidget.

Harley takes his hand and laces their fingers together. “I promise they will. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“How come you’re not nervous anymore?” Peter asks, glancing over at him. “You were kind of freaking out before we left and now you’re like… zen.”

Harley shrugs. “I guess I’m just excited and uh, what I was worried about before is kind of a moot point now.”

“It is? What was it?”

Harley glances at their clasped hands and a little smile plays across his lips. “I guess I was worried they’d be pushy about us not being together yet, but uh, problem solved you know?”

Peter squeezes his hand and a shy smile curls his lips. “Yeah, I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you have it my lovelies! It only gets more sickeningly sweet from here. 80k before they kiss makes it a slow burn right? Even though they've been disgustingly lovey-dovey this whole time? Idk. I don't know anything about anything. I'm just here to have a good time.
> 
> I made myself 15 minutes late signing into work so I could post this. I hope you're being equally irresponsible in reading it. It's only fair! Stay healthy out there! Leave a comment. I love you guys! We're on the cusp of breaking 500 kudos and I AM HERE FOR IT <333 You guys are the best!


	14. To have a place and be in it

~ **Peter** ~

They’ve only just pulled into the driveway when a teenage girl a couple of years younger than him with long straight brown hair barrels off the porch and towards the car. She’s wearing green and black plaid sleep shorts and the “I Love New York” Spidey shirt that Harley sent her months ago.

Abbie runs barefoot across the dirt and is already at the driver side of the car before Harley even has the car in park. She puts her hands on her hips as she waits for the door to open.

“Better hurry up before she busts in the window,” Peter says quietly, his heart pounding in his chest. _‘_ _ Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up _ _,’_ repeats like a mantra in his head. He thinks he might puke.

Harley grins at him. “She can wait two seconds while I take off my seatb-,”

Abbie raps on the window with her knuckles. “Harley Keener, get your ass out here! I’ve been waitin’ all fuckin’ day and I-,”

“Watch your mouth,” says another voice.

Peter whips around and sees a middle-aged woman standing on the porch with her arms crossed over her chest. She has wide hips and sandy blonde hair the same shade as Harley’s that falls in waves around her face. The porch light behind her is the only light illuminating the dark cloudy night and it casts her face in shadow, making it impossible to read her expression, even for him. Peter gulps.

_ Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. _

Harley leans over and kisses the side of Peter’s head. “It’ll be fine. Relax,” he says and then he pops open the door and gets out. Peter takes a deep breath and follows. Abbie launches herself onto Harley the moment he’s clear of the car and they hug for several seconds before she steps back and punches his shoulder.

“Hey, what was that for!”

“For bein’ a dweeb,” she says.

Harley looks to Peter for an explanation, but Peter can only shrug. He’s never understood sibling dynamics. There have been several times he legitimately thought MJ and her siblings were going to kill each other only for them to be laughing and making jokes a minute later.

“Peter Parker,“ Abbie says. It sounds weird coming out of her mouth, Peter doesn’t figure out why until she continues, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Abbie.” She says it in a Queens accent.

“What the fuck?” Peter blurts.

Harley and Abbie burst into laughter while behind him on the porch Ms. Keener clucks her tongue. He feels his face flush bright red.

“I-I mean, hell- NO!  _ Heck! _ It’s nice to meet you too. I’m… I’m Peter.” He trails off and puts his face in his hands. This is exactly what he’d been afraid of. “Can we- Can we start over?”

“Absolutely not,” Harley says while Abbie continues to howl with laughter. “Don’t mind my dork of a sister. She thinks she’s a thespian.” Peter can hear the crunch of dirt under his boots as he makes his way around the car and then Harley gently pulls Peter’s hands away from his face and says, “That was adorable.” His grin is blinding.

Peter pouts. “I don’t want to be adorable.”

“Impossible.” Harley threads his fingers between Peter’s and turns them both to face the porch. “Peter, this is my mama. Mama, this is Peter my uh, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter says, raising his free hand in an awkward wave. He still can’t see Ms. Keener’s face.

“Holy crap, when did that happen and why didn’t you tell me?” Abbie demands, the Queens accent is gone, replaced by a southern accent slightly thicker than the one he’s used to hearing from Harley.

“Calm down. It literally happened today.”

Harley rolls his eyes as he pulls Peter along towards the porch. They enter the circle of light and finally, Peter can see Ms. Keener’s face. She looks amused. He feels the tight knot in his chest relax as he sticks out his hand.

“Thanks so much for inviting me, Ms. Keener. It’s an honor to finally meet you. Harley talks about you guys all the time.”

Ms. Keener takes his hand and shakes it, her amusement seeming to grow as Peter speaks. “Likewise,” she says. “I’m sure you boys are tired after drivin’. You had supper yet?”

Peter’s stomach growls at the mention of food and he laughs awkwardly while Harley sighs in fond exasperation.

“Peter’s always hungry. His metabolism is insane.”

“Good,” Ms. Keener says. “I like feeding people. C'mere baby," she says to Harley, holding out her arms. "Been missin' you somethin' fierce." Harley lets go of Peter's hand to step forward into his mom's embrace. When they part, Ms. Keener steps towards the house and says, "C’mon inside and let's get y'all fed. It's gettin' late."

They troop into the house after Ms. Keener and Peter looks around curiously. The first room they enter is a screened-in front porch with a couple rocking chairs, a porch swing, and all kinds of shoes kicked off to the side. Peter spots a couple pairs of cowboy boots and can’t help the delighted grin that overtakes his face.

Harley kicks off his shoes to join the pile so Peter follows suit, leaving his beside Harley’s. Then they enter the house proper with Abbie trailing behind them. The front room is simple and homey. A worn green couch takes up the middle of the room and is complemented by the dull red recliner beside it, both of them facing a large TV sitting on an antique hutch.

Behind the TV the wall is papered with faded yellow hexagons that remind Peter of a honeycomb. The other walls are painted a neutral cream color and are covered in framed photos and stylized platitudes like ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ and ‘This home is built on Love and Shenanigans’.

The carpet seems to be as old as the wallpaper. It’s threadbare and discolored from years of being tread upon and several nice but mismatched rugs cover the majority of it. He’s tempted to linger and check out some of the pictures on the walls, but he forces himself to keep walking towards the kitchen. There will be time to snoop later.

Abbie shoves Harley and slips past him into the kitchen and he retaliates with a push between her shoulder blades as she passes him. They’re both silent, but somehow Mr.s Keener must sense their antics because without turning to so much as glance at them she says, “That’s enough.”

The kitchen is warm and spacious with creaking hardwood floors. The cupboards are a dark wood that goes nicely with the hand-painted red walls. There are a few marks of red paint on the otherwise white ceiling that tell Peter they painted the room themselves. To the left, there’s a door that seems to lead to some kind of mudroom and then outside. On his right, a staircase leads up to the second floor and directly ahead of him through an arched doorway he spots an antique dining room table with eight matching chairs seated around it.

He breathes deep and his stomach grumbles again. It smells good in here. Like cooking meat, but the scent is faded like it’s been a while since the food was prepared.

“I made plenty just in case you boys showed up in time for supper,” Ms. Keener says as she pulls a few Tupperwares out of the fridge.

“Oh you didn’t have to Ms. Keener,” Peter assures her. She turns and skewers him with a look that has him wishing the floor would swallow him up.

“‘Course I did. What kind of host doesn’t feed her guests?”

“Uh, I didn’t mean- It’s just- I mean, technically we already ate so I was just-,”

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Harley says, squeezing his hand. “She gets a little crabby when people turn down her food.”

“I wasn’t turning down food!” Peter says, indignant despite the way his heart flips in his chest at the casual term of endearment. He would  _ never  _ turn down food. Then Ms. Keener plops a hunk of meat onto a plate and Peter gets a full whiff of it. “Oh wow. That smells so good. What is that?”

She turns to look at him like he’s grown another head. “You ain’t never had meatloaf before?”

_ “That’s _ what meatloaf’s supposed to smell like?!” he blurts.

Harley laughs so hard he has to let go of Peter’s hand and hold himself upright against the counter. Ms. Keener and Abbie stare.

“Cut it out,” Peter complains, fighting a blush as he pokes at Harley’s ribs. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to quell his laughter. Peter sighs and turns back to Ms. Keener who is watching the pair of them with raised eyebrows. “My aunt isn’t… Well, she’s a terrible cook. She likes to experiment and uh, it rarely goes well.”

Ms. Keener presses her lips together in a judgey way that has Peter bristling and jumping to May’s defense. “To be fair,” he says tensely as Harley finally gets control of himself, ”my uncle was always the one to cook and since he died she’s been trying really hard to fill in the gaps.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ms. Keener says, tone more gentle than it’s been all night. He hates it. The room falls into an awkward silence as Ms. Keener continues plating their food Peter racks his brain for anything that could tactfully change the subject or get him out of the room.

He bolts upright and whirls to face Harley. “Oh my God, we forgot Bumpurr in the car! We’re officially the worst parents ever!” He scrambles out of the kitchen and Harley calls after him.

“I’m not her dad!”

Peter shouts back over his shoulder, “You love her! Don’t pretend!”

He jogs to the car in his socks, half-listening to the conversation in the kitchen as Harley explains to his mom and sister that they’re talking about a cat and not a living person.

“Since when do you like cats?” Abbie asks.

“I  _ don’t _ _,”_ Harley argues.

Abbie snorts. “You are so whipped.”

Harley doesn’t respond and that makes Peter smile a little bit as he coaxes Bumpurr out from under the passenger seat. There’s silence inside, broken only by the clinking of silverware and then the hum of a microwave.

Peter manages to extract Bumpurr but hesitates before going back inside. He nuzzles his nose in Bumpurr’s fur and tries to calm himself as she begins to purr. He doesn’t like to bring up Uncle Ben at the best of times and tonight really isn’t a good time to fall back into memories of the months after he died. They were… hard. On both him and Aunt May. Sometimes he wonders how they made it through still able to love each other like they do. They weren’t kind to each other.

“Mama, please go easy on him.” Harley’s voice barely carries out to Peter. “I really- He’s really important to me.”

“I  am goin’ easy,” Ms. Keener replies, not nearly as quietly. “Are you wantin’ me to walk on eggs shells around him?”

“No, I just… He’s really… I really need you to get along.”

Ms. Keener sighs. “I always knew when you finally fell for someone you’d fall hard and fast. I won’t promise to pretend to be someone I’m not, but I’ll do what I can to make him feel welcome. How’s that?”

“That’s all I’m askin’. Thanks, ma.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, baby. Now get out there and check on your boy. If he’s anything like you he’s hiding.”

Harley huffs a laugh and doesn’t bother to keep his voice down as he says, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what he’s doing.”

“I wanna see the cat,” Abbie says.

“You’ll see it when they get back in,” Ms. Keener says sternly. “Give ‘em their space.”

Abbie groans and only one set of footsteps leave the kitchen. He leans against the car, cradling Bumpurr against his chest, and waits. Harley steps out onto the porch a moment later and stops at the top of the steps.

“What’re you doin’ way out there?” Harley asks and Peter notices that his accent has gotten thicker to match his mom and Abbie’s in the few minutes since they arrived.

“Waiting for you,” Peter answers honestly.

Harley smiles. “Well come over here and sit with me. Mama’ll whoop me if I ruin my socks. Never mind that I’m the one that bought ‘em.”

Peter looks down at his white socks in dismay. Then, to his horror, he feels tears bubble up in his eyes and his lungs seem to cave in. He gulps back a sob and sniffles involuntarily.

“Hey, hey what’re you doin’ that for?” Harley says, hurrying down the steps and across the dirt despite what he just said. He hooks a finger under Peter’s chin and tips his head up to look him in the eyes. He frowns at Peter’s tears and wipes at them with the pads of his thumbs.

“C’mere,” he says and pulls Peter into a hug, careful not to squish Bumpurr who continues to purr, oblivious to Peter’s distress. “Why’re you cryin’?”

Peter draws in a harsh breath and lets it go, desperately trying to get himself back under control. “I just… I can’t do anything right. I say all the wrong things and now my socks are dirty and I just… I really want them to like me but it’s all going wrong and I don’t know-,” a harsh sob interrupts him. “I don’t know how to act or what to say and it’s just- It’s all going wrong.”

“You’re doin’ just fine. Nothing’s gone wrong and no one expects you to be perfect.” Harley presses his lips to Peter’s forehead and then tucks him close so his nose is pressed into Harley’s neck.

Peter breathes deep, pulling in Harley’s scent and holds his breath for several seconds before letting it out slowly. “What if they don’t like me? Will that… change things?”

“First of all, not possible.”

“Harley-,” Peter begins, exasperated.

“D’you trust me?” Harley interrupts.

“Of course, but-,”

“Then you gotta  trust me when I say they’re gonna love you. I know them as well as I know myself and I like to think I know you pretty damn well too. Before you know it, Mama’s gonna be coddling you like one of her own and you and Abbie are gonna be thick as thieves and giving me headaches. You just… You gotta give it time. And you gotta cut yourself some slack. Nobody expects you to always say the perfect thing and you’d be boring if you did.”

Peter presses his forehead against the side of Harley’s neck and doesn’t respond. He hopes he’s right.

“Second of all,” Harley continues after several seconds of silence, “I- Peter, I care about you a lot. I dunno if you could hear what I said to my ma, but I meant it. You’re… You’re really important to me and I’m not about to give up on us just cuz you and Mama didn’t hit it off right away. So don’t even think like that, okay? As far as I’m concerned, mine’s the only opinion that matters and I already- Well I’m already crazy about you, okay?”

Peter nods, his throat too tight to allow words. Harley kisses the top of his head again and then steps back, resting his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“You ready to go back in?”

Peter shakes his head. “Not like this,” he says, sniffing. “I just… I need a few minutes.”

“‘Course. You wanna sit in the car or on the porch?”

“You don’t have to stay with me. You can go back-,”

“Shut up. I do too. Now answer the question, Parker.”

Peter hopes his relief isn’t too obvious. “Porch,” he decides. If he’s being honest, he’s pretty sick of sitting in the car.

Harley puts his hand against the small of Peter’s back as they walk to the enclosed porch. Once the door is shut behind them, Peter sets down Bumpurr and she toddles off to explore the shoe pile, but Peter hardly notices because he’s cupping Harley’s face between both of his hands and drawing him in for a slow and simple kiss.

When they break apart Peter winds his arms around his waist and Harley curls his arms around Peter’s shoulders and holds him close.

“Thanks,” Peter says quietly.

“Anytime, Spider Baby,” Harley responds, equally hushed.

They settle onto the porch swing together, Peter with his knees tucked against his chest and leaning against Harley’s side while Harley has his arm wrapped around him and is holding him close. They stare silently out at the dark moonless night as the swing rocks them gently. A light breeze ruffles Peter’s hair through the open windows and he closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs eventually. “We should head back inside.”

“You got nothin’ to apologize for and we’ll go back in when we’re good and ready,” Harley says with finality.

Peter disagrees with the first statement but doesn’t argue. “You sound like your mom,” he says instead.

Harley snorts. “Do not.”

Peter smiles because he definitely does.

“I think we waited too long between meals,” Harley says, apropos of nothing. It does nothing to disliken him to his mother. “You always get caught up in your head when you go too long without food.”

“I do?” Peter asks.

“You hadn’t noticed?” Harley asks. Peter shakes his head. “Yeah, you uh- well you get emotional pretty easy. That sounds bad, but I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I’m not me when I’m hungry?” he asks wryly.

Harley laughs a little. “I guess that works.”

“Is that why you’re always making sure I eat?”

Harley shrugs. “Part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” Peter asks when Harley doesn’t offer it.

Harley huffs. “Well, it wouldn’t do for Spider-Man to pass out on the job because he’s an idiot who doesn’t pay attention to the passage of time. And I want you happy. Turns out you’re happiest when you’re well fed and well lo- uh, well cared for.”

They lapse into silence after that. Neither of them bring up the L-word Harley almost let slip, but it’s not awkward. At least, it isn’t for Peter. He feels light and… well, he feels loved. It’s not a new feeling, but he wonders if that’s the word he should have been using to describe the feeling Harley inspires within him this whole time.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Peter says a few minutes later, only a little reluctant. As content as he’d be to stay here with Harley for hours and hours, he really is hungry.

“Okay,” Harley says, but neither of them make any move to get up and the bench continues to gently sway back and forth. Peter smiles to himself, happy. Content.

“Umm, in the interest of staying on the same page,” Peter says, “you’re really important to me too. And uh, I’m crazy about you too.”

Harley doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and then he clears his throat. “Good,” he says, voice soft. “I suppose we should go feed the beast.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees and then sits up with a sigh and puts down his feet, bringing the swing to a stop.

They collect Bumpurr from where she’s batting at the shoelace of a large muddy boot and when Harley pulls off his dirty socks and stuffs them in his shoes, Peter does the same. They reenter the house to find Ms. Keener and Abbie in the living with the TV playing  That 70’s Show .

“Go grab your plates and you can sit and watch with us,” Ms. Keener says from the red recliner, thankfully without addressing their extended absence.

“Oh my God, she’s so small! Can I hold her?” Abbie asks from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her eyes on Bumpurr in Peter’s arms.

“Yeah, of course. She’s super sweet!” Peter deposits the kitten into Abbie’s arms and smiles at the way her entire face lights up. When he turns around he finds Harley looking at the two of them with a soft expression on his face. Peter nudges him with his elbow and grins knowingly.

Harley rolls his eyes and elbows Peter back. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

They collect their plates from the oven where they’d been keeping warm and grab a couple forks before heading back to the living room. They settle on the couch with Harley on the middle cushion beside Abbie and Peter on the far end from Ms. Keener. He feels guilty for how relieved he feels at the distance.

Then he stabs his fork into the meatloaf and takes a bite.

“Oh my God, this is amazing Ms. Keener,” he says before he even finishes chewing. Then he remembers his manners and feels heat creep into his cheeks. “I mean-,”

“I’m glad you like it, hun,” Ms. Keener says, seemingly unperturbed by his outburst or his full mouth. “There’s plenty more where that came from. You help yourself to as much as you want.”

“Oh umm, thank you,” Peter says, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going to fix himself a second plate. One is fine.

His food is gone far too quickly for his liking. He eyes Harley’s still half-full plate but holds back from stealing bites like he normally would. Eventually, Harley catches him looking and swaps plates with him with a sigh.

“Oh you don’t have to-,”

“Just shut up and eat it,” Harley says and gets to his feet. “I’m gonna make you a meatloaf sandwich. You’re gonna love it.”

“A what?” Peter asks. He’s never heard of people eating meatloaf in sandwich form.

“It’s the best way to eat leftover meatloaf,” Harley says.

“It’s disgusting,” Abbie says. “Cold meatloaf.” She shudders.

Peter turns back to Harley. “It’s good?” he asks.

“The best,” Harley says confidently.

“Alright. I’ll give it a try.” Peter’s never shied away from trying new foods. It’s probably because the worst foods he’s ever encountered have always come from his own kitchen. He’s always tried that and nothing too terrible has happened, exempting the chicken casserole incident of 2012 where him, May, and Ben fought over the toilet for a full 24 hours.

Harley grins at him and heads for the kitchen. While he’s gone, Peter shovels down the remainder of his meal and then stands to take care of his plate. He finds Harley in the kitchen drizzling mustard onto a slice of meatloaf sitting atop a slice of bread. He places a second slice over the top of it and picks up the plate.

“Trade me,” he says, offering the sandwich to Peter with one hand and reaching for his empty plate with the other.

“I can do-,”

Harley sighs and snatches the plate from Peter. Peter lets him and accepts the sandwich. “Quit being so stubborn,” Harley tells him. “Try that and tell me what you think.”

Peter scowls at his back as he begins rinsing the plate and takes a large bite of the sandwich. “Oh my God.”

Harley laughs. “Told you so.”

“I think this might be better than the meatloaf by itself,” Peter says, taking a second bite. He pauses mid-chew and says, “Don’t tell your mom I said that.”

Harley sticks the plate and fork in the dishwasher with the rest of the dirty dishes and leans his butt back against the counter and crosses his arms, regarding Peter. “You want another?”

Peter hesitates. “No, this is fine.”

“I didn’t ask if it was fine. I asked if you wanted another. We’ve got plenty.” He gestures to the half a loaf still sitting out on the counter. “I think ma made two loaves.”

“It’s… I’m fine.”

Harley frowns at him and then turns around and starts cutting another slice and grabs two more slices of bread.

“Harley really-,”

“Just shut up and eat, Peter. Seriously. Don’t let yourself go hungry because you think you’re being a bad guest by needing more than one plate of food.”

Peter blushes, caught. “I wouldn’t have gone hungry,” he mumbles.

Harley turns around and levels a stern look at him as he thunks the second sandwich down on his plate. “You know what I mean. I don’t want to have to fight with you to eat the whole time you’re here. I warned Mama you’ve got a big appetite before we ever left New York so just… Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ve got you covered.”

Peter frowns down at the sandwich. He doesn’t like that they had to make special arrangements for him. He doesn’t like feeling needy and dependent. He doesn’t like that Harley knew Peter wouldn’t be able to mesh right in with his family and that they needed a special heads up about his needs.

“Hey.” Harley puts his hand on Peter’s cheek and smooths his thumb along the soft center of Peter’s cheek. Peter looks up and meets his sure and steady gaze. “Whatever’s going through your head right now, I promise it’s not a big deal. You’re over-thinking it. Trust me. We’re all just happy you’re here.”

Peter nods. He’s not sure that he believes it, but he trusts Harley and so he’ll go along with it and try his best to act normal.

Harley leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth, causing Peter’s stomach to somersault.

“Eat and then we’ll go sit back down and watch some TV before bed.”

Right. Bed. Where they’ll be split up somehow. Peter chomps into his sandwich and it doesn’t taste as good as it did before. He finishes in no time and Harley gets him a glass of water. Peter drinks half of it and then passes it back to Harley and insists he finish it. Harley rolls his eyes and does so before putting the glass in the dishwasher and threading his fingers between Peter’s.

They reenter the living room to find Ms. Keener crocheting as she chuckles quietly at the TV and Abbie laying on her stomach on the floor playing with the kitten with a long strand of yarn likely gifted to her from her mother. Peter and Harley settle on the couch to watch the show. Harley sits on the end this time so Peter sits in the middle and snuggles against him.

After a long day on the road and the lights now dim, Harley a comforting warmth at his side, and a good meal in his stomach, Peter doesn’t last ten minutes before he falls dead asleep.

~*~

He startles awake some time later, disoriented and confused and holds very still as he tries to gain his bearings. He recognizes Harley breathing deep and slow beside him right away, but it takes a few seconds to remember where he is and to figure out what woke him up. The lights are off now and so is the TV. He thinks the sudden quiet from the TV is probably what woke him but then there’s a shuffling noise behind the couch and a blanket is being draped over him and Harley.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, ma,” Abbie’s voice whispers from somewhere near the kitchen.

“Hush,” Ms. Keener says, her voice directly behind the couch. “You get to bed now. We’ve got an early morning ahead of us if we’re gonna make the parade.”

Peter lays frozen as only one set of footsteps walks away and he listens to the creak of stairs underfoot. Through his eyelashes, he sees Ms. Keener’s hand gently card through Harley’s hair. Harley sighs and leans into the touch, apparently still asleep.

“Missed you, baby,” Ms. Keener whispers, barely audible. Then her hand retracts and Peter listens to her footsteps as she heads upstairs as well. A door clicks shut and he finally lets himself relax. He doesn’t know how they managed it, but somehow they lucked out and are being allowed to stay together on the couch. He’s not gonna look this gift horse in the mouth, but… he raises his head and sees Harley is laying awkwardly hunched to the side in a way that will definitely have him waking up sore if he stays like that much longer.

“Harley,” Peter whispers, poking his side. “Hey, wake up for a sec.”

Harley stirs and looks blearily down at Peter and around the darkened room.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbles.

“Lay down,” Peter instructs, standing up and taking the blanket with him so Harley can do so.

Harley doesn’t need to be told twice and stretches out with a sigh, putting his back to the back of the couch and holding out his arms for Peter to crawl into. Peter does so and drapes the blanket over them, making sure to cover their bare feet before he snuggles in against Harley’s chest and wraps an arm around his waist.

Harley holds him tight and kisses his forehead. He’s asleep again in seconds but Peter lays awake for a long while. Back home there’s always so much going on. Cars, people, appliances—everything makes so much noise that it’s a constant hum and sometimes roar. Here, it’s quiet. He can hear Abbie softly singing to herself and rustling fabric as Ms. Keener presumably changes for bed. The refrigerator hums and there are strange sounds outside. He recognizes the chirp of crickets but something in the distance is screaming and he doesn’t know what the hell that could be, only that it’s not human. The creaking of the house is as foreign as the sounds outside, but the beat of Harley’s heart next to his ear is comforting in its familiarity. He focuses on it until sleep finally drags him under once more.

~*~

When Peter wakes up to the squeaking of the stairs the next morning, he feels like he only got a few hours of sleep and, considering their late arrival, he probably did. Ms. Keener is up early and Peter lays half-asleep on the couch, still wrapped in Harley’s arms while he listens to her clatter around in the kitchen. After a few minutes, wonderful smells start to drift through the house.

He doesn’t remember seeing a bathroom the night before and he doesn’t want to have to ask Ms. Keener where it is so he ignores his full bladder as long as he can. Besides, he’s comfortable here in Harley’s arms with Bumpurr lying curled up just above his hip where his waist dips inward. He’s happy here and doesn’t want to have to get up and start the new day before he absolutely has to.

It doesn’t last, of course. As the smells coming from the kitchen reach their peak, Harley begins to stir and then Ms. Keener is calling them all for breakfast. Bumpurr jumps down to the floor when her perch becomes too wiggly and the boys reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and sit up.

“I umm- Where’s the bathroom?” Peter asks while Harley rubs the grit from his eyes.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s umm. I’ll show you.”

Peter follows Harley into the kitchen and they both greet Ms. Keener good morning. Harley kisses her cheek and she hands him a stack of plates to set at the table.

“It’s through the mudroom on the right,” Harley tells Peter, nodding towards the door opposite the stairs.

“Thanks,” Peter says.

He opens the door to the mudroom and it’s bigger than he expected. To the left, an open door reveals a smallish room with a washer and dryer and to his right is the bathroom as Harley indicated. The door directly in front of him has a large window and through it, Peter can see a long stretch of green grass softly lit by the early morning sun. Trees cover the horizon, gently rolling in green sunlit waves as far as Peter can see. They sway in the breeze and birds chirp and sing as they flit from treetop to treetop.

It’s beautiful. His hands itch for his camera but first, he really needs to pee.

He takes care of business and is tempted to poke out the side door and get a better look, but instead he dutifully returns to the kitchen to find it empty. He follows the clinking of silverware into the dining room and finds Ms. Keener, Abbie, and Harley all sitting together at one end of the table. Ms. Keener sits at the head of the table, looking fresh and ready for the day, with Harley on her right and Abbie on her left both looking pale and tired. Abbie’s still in her pajamas while Harley is in his rumpled slept in clothes from the day before, same as Peter.

There are platters of scrambled eggs, pancakes, hash browns, and sausages and it all smells amazing. The three of them are passing around plates, each dishing a different item onto the plate before passing to the left. It’s an efficient machine and all at once Peter feels like he’s imposing.

Then Harley smiles at him and nods to the seat beside him. Peter walks around the table and takes the offered seat and stares down at the plate in front of him, already heaped high with food. Harley’s doing, he’s sure.

“Wow, this looks great, Ms. Keener.”

“Thank you, Peter. All of you make sure you eat your fill. I think we’ll be havin’ a late dinner today.”

“She’s talking about lunch,” Harley explains, apparently catching Peter’s confusion and mild alarm. “When she’s talking about dinner she’ll say supper.”

Ms. Keener raises her eyebrows. “Breakfast, dinner, and supper is the correct way of sayin’ it.”

Peter glances between the two of them while Harley rolls his eyes. “Uh, okay.”

“Maybe we can pack some sandwiches to tide us over,” Harley says without looking at Peter. Peter ducks his head to hide his embarrassment.  _ More special accommodations . _

“That’s a good idea. I’ll see if I have time to put something together,” Ms. Keener says.

“Me and Peter can do it,” Harley offers.

Ms. Keener shoots him a sharp look. “I won’t be putting our guest to work.”

“I don’t mind,” Peter says quickly. “I like being helpful.” Especially when it comes to things other people are doing for him.

Ms. Keener looks between the two of them and then sighs. “Alright. None of the meatloaf though. I don’t want it to spoil in the heat. It’s supposed to be in the upper 90’s again today.”

“PB&J’s it is,” Harley says and stuffs a fork full of pancake into his mouth.

When Ms. Keener isn’t looking, Peter shoots him a grateful look and Harley smiles back and knocks his knee against Peter’s under the table.

Breakfast passes quickly and then it’s a scramble to get leftovers put away. Harley tries to take on washing dishes and Peter’s quick to offer his help, but Ms. Keener shoos them both away and orders the young people in the household to get ready for the day. Him and Harley bring in their bags from the car and get Bumpurr some breakfast. After some discussion with Ms. Keener, they set up her litter box in Harley’s bedroom.

Harley’s room is the first door on the left at the top of the stairs and it’s weirdly clean. Everything seems to have a place and be in it and Peter figures that’s because Ms. Keener cleaned it after he moved out. He’s never seen Harley’s room at the tower even remotely organized. He pokes around for a couple minutes while Harley gets dressed and is a little disappointed until he turns and spots the dark brown cowboy hat hanging on the back of the door.

“Ah-ha!” he exclaims and plucks it off the hook.

Harley rolls his eyes and pulls on his shirt. Peter drops the hat on his head as soon as it pops through the neck hole and then laughs in delight.

“Please,  _ please _ let me take a picture,” Peter begs.

Harley sighs and straightens the hat and Peter presses a hurried kiss to his cheek before scrambling to retrieve his camera from his backpack. He has to take a couple, adjusting the exposure in between snapshots, before he gets one he likes. Harley isn’t smiling, but he’s not frowning either.

His eyes are soft and at first glance you can’t tell, but if you look closer you notice he’s not looking at the camera, but at the person holding the camera. It immediately becomes one of Peter’s favorites and he can’t wait to load it onto his laptop and send it to his phone so he can set it as his lock screen.

Harley tosses the hat on the bed and they finish getting dressed before trooping downstairs to brush their teeth because Abbie is still in the upstairs bathroom blow-drying her hair. Ms. Keener calls from the living room that they need to be out the door in ten minutes and so Harley and Peter hurriedly start putting together sandwiches. Harley spreads a thick layer of peanut butter on both slices and then passes them to Peter to jelly up.

“If you put peanut butter on both slices it keeps the jelly from soaking into the bread and making it soggy,” he explains.

“Smart.”

They use the last of the bread to make the sandwiches and Peter feels bad about it knowing that the rest of them would have probably been fine with a late lunch, but Harley assures him that it’s no big deal and that his mom has likely planned out elaborate feasts for every meal anyway so no one will miss the sandwich bread.

They wrap the sandwiches in plastic wrap and then load them into a Wal-Mart sack from the pantry. Harley grabs a second sack and tucks it into his pocket with a wink.

“For candy,” he explains.

Peter grins. He’s excited for the parade. Him and Aunt May typically avoid the parades in New York. They’re too crowded to make it worth it. If they really want to see the floats they could tune in on TV, but it’s not the same so they don’t bother.

Peter darts upstairs for his camera and checks to make sure he has his back up battery and SD card in the camera bag. Then he checks that Bumpurr has plenty of water and is safely napping on Harley’s bed and spots the cowboy hat on the bed beside her. He snatches it up and heads back downstairs.

He meets the Keeners outside beside an old white station wagon. Abbie is tapping away on her phone and Harley and Ms. Keener are loading folding chairs into the back. Peter skips over to Harley and plops the hat on his head.

“You almost forgot this,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Harley rolls his eyes and fixes the hat more firmly on his head. “I dunno what it is with you and cowboy hats.”

Peter shrugs. “It looks good on you.” Harley smirks cockily and Peter shoves his shoulder. “It looks  _ right _ _,_ is all I’m saying.”

“Get in love birds!” Abbie shouts at them in a Queens accent as she ducks into the passenger seat. It’s just as jarring as it was the night before.

“Does she do the accent a lot?” Peter asks Harley as Ms. Keener gets into the car.

“She’s got all kinds of accents,” Harley says, rolling his eyes. “The Queens one is new though. I think she learned that one for you.”

“Oh,” Peter says, feeling strangely touched. “That’s thoughtful of her.”

Harley snorts and ruffles his hair. “Don’t be too flattered. She’s just showing off.”

He opens the back door for Peter and Peter climbs in and scoots across the seat to make room for Harley. Regardless of Abbie’s motivations, it makes him feel a little more at ease knowing she’s been anticipating his visit so much that she learned his accent, even if it was just to catch him off guard.

“What’s it like growing up in the city?” Abbie asks before they’re even out of the driveway. She twists around in her seat to see him in a way that Peter knows May would scold him for, but Ms. Keener doesn’t say anything as she turns on the radio to an Oldies station.

“Uhh, I dunno. What’s it like to grow up in the country?”

“Boring,” Abbie says without preamble. “Harley says you don’t know how to drive.”

Peter glares at Harley who only shrugs, unconcerned. “I know the basics,” he says defensively. “But to be fair, I don’t  _ need _ to drive. I just take public transportation wherever I need to go. And what do you mean boring? You have a horse and ride four-wheelers whenever you want!”

Abbie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, so? You’ve got restaurants and museums and concert halls and  _ Broadway .” _

Well when she puts it like that, he supposes she’s got a point.

“Did Harley ever tell you about when I got attacked by robots at the Stark Expo?”

“When you  _ what? _ _”_ Harley exclaims at the same time Abbie says, “No, tell me!”

“Have I really not told you this story before?” Peter asks Harley.

“I think I would remember  _ any _ story that involves you being attacked by robots,” Harley says dryly.

“Huh. Okay so it was the first expo right after Mr. Stark made Iron Man and I was  _ desperate _ to go.”

Harley and Abbie listen with rapt attention as Peter recounts the story, gesturing widely as he describes the chaos of the crowd as the military robots turned on Mr. Stark and started to attack and how he was separated from Uncle Ben and Aunt May.

“And so then everyone is gone. The whole crowd just kind of moved without me and suddenly I’m alone, face-to-face with one of those robots, but I’ve got my Iron Man helmet on, right? So even though I’m scared shitless I think to myself, _‘_ _ What would Iron Man do? _ _’_ So I put up my palm like this.”

“Oh my God. How are you alive?” Harley moans, face in his hands.

Abbie’s eyes are wide with excitement as she demands, “What happened next?”

“A repulsor blast took out the robot like  _ bam! _ and it collapsed in a heap of metal. I thought I did it for a second and I was like,  _ ‘woah _ _’_ but then  _ Iron Man _ flew up and was all, _‘_ _ Nice work, kid _ _’_ and I was like _‘_ _ WOAH! _ _’_ It was, hands down, the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Woah,” Abbie says.

“How are you still alive?” Harley asks again, this time with feeling.

Peter shrugs, grinning. “Just lucky I guess.”

“I always wondered whether you were born without a shred of self-preservation or if it eroded away over time,” Harley says. “I guess this answers that.”

Peter grins at him. “You wanna hear about the time I was on a field trip to the zoo and somehow ended up in the rhino exhibit?”

“No!” Harley says at the same time Abbie exclaims, _“_ _ Yes! ” _

“Okay so this was in kindergarten so imagine a mini me that’s like this tall with thick glasses and asthma.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Harley moans.

“You sound adorable,” Abbie says, resting her chin on the top of her seat. “Go on.”

“I hate you both.”

“Shh, Harley,” Peter says, taking his hand in his. “Storytime is for listening.”

Harley glares at him but doesn’t say anything else as he threads his fingers between Peter’s. Peter grins at him and delves into the story. Despite all of his complaining, Harley hangs on his every word and over the top of her seat, Abbie does the same. Ms. Keener stays quiet and keeps her eyes on the road, but she turns down the radio and Peter catches a smile threatening to curl her lips more than once.

_ I’ve got this _ _,_ he thinks. They had something of a rough start, but so long as he can keep entertaining them he thinks he might just be able to get himself through the next couple days. _I've got this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments on the last chapter were *chef's kiss* magnifique! It was super fun to see you all lose your minds over them finally getting together! lol
> 
> I hope you all enjoy your stay in Rose Hill! We'll be here for the next few chapters. Stay healthy out there and enjoy this little nugget of serotonin on the house (✿◠‿◠)


	15. Spider-Man doesn’t know shit about chickens

** ~ Harley ~ **

“Oh my God, how can there possibly be more tractors?” Peter mutters and Harley laughs.

Peter is slouched miserably in his chair and Harley gets it. All the smaller surrounding communities (like Rose Hill) want to be part of the parade and it ends up going long every year. It doesn’t help that it’s hot and they’re stuck in the sun and they’ve already seen a few dozen tractors. Their usual spot under the awning in front of the bank was full up by the time they got here so they had to settle for a spot across the street in front of the Ford dealership without a lick of shade.

“Here.” Harley passes Peter the bottle of water that his ma so thoughtfully packed for them. There’s only about half left when he hands it to Peter who shoots him a grateful look and sips at it. Harley sweeps his hat off his head and drops it on Peter’s. Peter’s face immediately relaxes in the shade of the wide rim.

“Thanks,” Peter says and smiles over at him. He looks… very good… with his cheeks flushed pink from the heat and his brown eyes dark in the shadow of the brim.

“Don’t mention it,” Harley says, swiping his sweaty hair off his forehead. Those hats are good for keeping the sun off your face and the back of your neck, but they trap in heat like a motherfucker.

He spends the rest of the parade pointing out the different types of tractors to Peter and commenting on the ones that he’s personally driven before. He doesn’t think it’s particularly interesting but it’s enough to get Peter to sit up and look a little less miserable and before he knows it, Peter has him telling stories about joyrides he’s gone on that he probably shouldn’t be telling within earshot of Mama.

After the parade, they meander through the little flea market a block over. It’s funny, Harley remembers it being so jam-packed with people in years past that he never wanted to go in but now, after living in New York for six months, it only seems moderately busy. There’s just as many people as there’s always been as far as he can tell. It’s only his perception that’s changed.

Abbie runs into some friends and wanders off with them in search of funnel cakes. The sweet sugary scent of them is heavy in the air but they’ve yet to find the stand selling them. Mama stops to chit chat with one of her friends from church, leaving him and Peter on their own. Peter stops at every stand and picks things up and puts them down before dragging Harley off to the next one. It’s always the same things every year so the charm wore off on Harley years ago but it’s nice, he thinks, to get to see things new again through Peter’s eyes.

He ends up buying a little loaf of lemon bread from a stand selling all different kinds and him and Peter share it as they wander around. It’s sticky and sweet and makes Harley wish they still had their water but it’s worth it for the happy little grin it brings to Peter’s face.

Eventually, they meet back up with Mama and together they find Abbie with powdered sugar on the corner of her mouth.

“Sammie and Heather said they’re going to the pool later during open swim. Can I go with them?”

“Wipe your face, sugar,” Mama tells her. “I don’t mind you going if Harley’ll drive you. I’ve gotta keep an eye on supper.”

Abbie scrubs her hand across her mouth then turns wide pleading eyes onto her brother. “Please?”

“Can’t you drive yourself yet?” he asks with a put-upon sigh.

Abbie makes a face at him. “You know Mama won’t let me drive by myself until I get my license and that’s still four months away. Please? I really wanna go.”

Harley sighs and glances at Peter. “What’dya think? You wanna swim? Or we could find something else to do in town.”

Peter shrugs. “I’m good with whatever. I packed my swim trunks.”

“Alright,” Harley says to Abbie. “We’ll take you.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims and pulls both of them into a quick hug before darting off. “I’m gonna tell ‘em real quick!”

“Meet us at the park!” Mama calls after her. Abbie waves a hand to acknowledge that she heard before disappearing into the crowd to find her friends.

The park has the same stuff as always. The air is thick with humidity, the buttery scent of popcorn, and sulfur from too many firecrackers and sparklers. There’s bingo under the big shelter and the stand selling the popcorn and cotton candy right next to it. Down the hill is the amphitheater where they’ll have a talent show in a couple hours and beside it is the playground. There are other smaller activity stations set up in the grass but for the most part, that’s it. People mill around aimlessly, chatting with neighbors and strangers alike.

Peter takes it all in with a wide grin. “This is just like in the movies,” he says.

“What?” Harley says and looks over at Mama, confused. She shrugs.

“It’s like a big community event that the whole town shows up to and everyone knows everyone.” Peter pauses as he looks around at the crowds of people waving at each other and stopping to chat. “Wow, I’ve never seen so much camo before.”

Harley’s not sure what kind of look is on his face as he watches Peter watch the crowd, but it must be sickly sweet judging by the look Mama sends his way behind Peter’s back.

“Let’s start with some bingo while we wait for Abbie to catch up,” Mama suggests.

Peter’s face falls. “Oh, I uh… I didn’t bring any money,” he says.

Harley sighs. “Peter-,”

Mama stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Peter,” she begins and Peter looks up at her, eyes wide. His gaze flits to Harley and then jumps back to Mama. “When your aunt provides dinner for you, do you tell her she shouldn’t have?”

“What? No…”

“When she pays for you to go to a movie or buys you new clothes, do you insist that you pay for them?”

“No?” Peter glances at Harley, confused and alarmed at this line of questioning.

“Why is that?”

“Because… Because that’s what she’s supposed to do, I guess?”

“Exactly,” Mama says and Harley hears the relief in her tone. “So when I make you meals and pay for your bingo cards and later when I pay for your admission to the pool, keep in mind that I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to do as your host and I’m not doin’ any different than what I do for my kids. It ain’t an inconvenience or a surprise for me. Understand?”

“I- Yes, ma’am.”

Mama sighs. “None of that  _ ma’am _ nonsense. You can call me Josie. I ain’t even 40 yet.”

“Oh uh, okay, umm Ms. Keener,” Peter stutters, shooting a somewhat desperate look at Harley.

Mama purses her lips and runs her hand through her hair, fluffing it off the back of her neck. “You’re a stubborn one aren’t you?”

“Not on purpose,” Peter assures her quickly. Harley snickers and earns himself a light smack on his arm from his ma.

“Fine,” Mama sighs. “Let’s go play some bingo.”

The next few hours go by quickly. They play bingo for quite a while, even after Abbie finds them. At the very beginning, Peter warns them that he always loses luck-based games and that statement holds true. At one point he only needs to fill one more square to win three different ways but someone who bought in mid-game gets a bingo first and he has to clear his card and start over.

After bingo, they kill time playing corn hole and him and Peter get maybe a little too competitive. Mama has to tell them to reign in the trash talk three separate times before they finally move on to the amphitheater for the talent show. Peter gives Harley back his hat and they eat their sandwiches and listen to some truly awful singing, an energetic fiddler, a mediocre magic show, and a memorable (not in a good way) stand up routine.

After the show, some of Mama’s friends find her and after introducing Peter the women get to chatting. Harley, Peter, and Abbie sit around bored for ten whole minutes waiting for the conversation to wrap up.

Peter says, “The swings are open.”

Harley glances over and sure enough, all six swings are vacant. He raises his eyebrows at Peter and a slow smile curls his lips as Peter grins.

“C’mon, quick! Before someone takes them.” Peter hops to his feet and Harley stands as well.

“Swings are for little kids,” Abbie says, but she’s eying the swings thoughtfully.

“Says who?” Peter says. “Swinging is fun! C’mon, I’ll give you an under-doggy.”

Abbie glances at Harley who can only shrug and smile. Peter’s excitement is infectious. “It’ll be more fun than sitting here.”

Abbie sighs and gets to her feet, unable to argue with that logic.

“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” Peter shouts as he takes off down the hill.

“I am  _ not _ running,” Abbie says.

“Guess you’re the rotten egg then,” Harley says and sprints after Peter. There’s no way he can catch up but he still tries. Halfway down the hill, he hears footsteps pounding after him and sees Abbie giving chase after all. He laughs and pours on the speed, but she grabs a fistful of the back of his shirt and yanks him back at the last second and slaps the other hand to the pole right above Peter’s.

“I guess  _ you’re _ the rotten egg,” she says to Harley with a wide breathless grin.

Harley grins back. “Guess I am.”

“Were you serious about the under-doggy?” Abbie asks Peter.

“I don’t joke about under-doggies,” Peter tells her with a mock-serious expression. Then he breaks into a grin. “C’mon!”

He jogs over to the nearest swing, not even out of breath, the bastard, and waits for Abbie to sit on it. “Hold tight,” he tells her and gives her a few pushes to get the momentum going. Harley leans on the pole of the swing set with his shoulder and watches, not bothering to tamp down his happy smile. Then Peter grips the sides of the swing and runs forward, ducking under the swing as it lifts above his head and gives it a shove that sends Abbie arcing up into the air with a shriek of laughter.

Peter grins up at her and then over at Harley. “Aren’t you going to swing?”

Harley shakes his head. “I can’t do that swoopy feeling. Reminds me of falling.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Will you hold my camera then?”

“Course,” Harley says. Peter loops it off his neck and passes it over, kissing Harley’s cheek as he does so.

“Gross!” Abbie shouts, pumping her legs to keep her momentum going. “Get a room!”

“Get used to it, Bee,” Harley tells her.

“Betcha I can go higher than you!” Peter says. Then he hops on the swing next to her and pushes off the ground. Harley looks away from Peter’s biceps flexing as he pulls the chains to get himself higher and down at the camera in his hands instead. On a whim, he points the camera at the pair of them and hits record. Even if Peter doesn’t want it in their road trip montage, maybe Harley will want a copy. A video of two of his favorite people laughing and egging each other on? Why wouldn’t he?

Soon enough their swinging contest turns into a jumping contest.

“Hey no cheating!” Harley yells as Peter sails an impossible distance and lands in a roll.

“I’m not!” Peter argues.

“Uh-huh,” Harley says, unconvinced.

“How do you cheat at jumpin’ off a swing?” Abbie asks.

Peter and Harley trade a look and tactfully don’t respond. Soon after, a kid wanders over and jumps up onto one of the open swings but his legs are too short to reach the ground.

“You want a push?” Peter asks as soon as he notices.

The kid nods hesitantly and Peter grabs the seat to pull him back and then sends him forward.

“Is that high enough?” Peter asks.

“Higher!” the kid shrieks.

Peter grins and gives him a strong push. “D’you want an under-doggie?”

“Yeah!”

Harley stops recording after the under-doggie. It feels weird to record someone else’s kid and besides, he’s got the footage he wanted anyway. They must make the swings look really fun because more kids come and somehow all three of them end up pushing kids instead of swinging.

“Look at what you started,” Harley tells Peter before darting two swings down the line to give a little girl a strong push.

Peter laughs and gives another kid an under-doggie.

Shortly after, Harley notices Mama standing alone at the top of the hill watching them. When she catches Harley’s eye she waves for him to come up.

“I think it’s time to go,” he tells Abbie and Peter, jerking his chin up at Mama.

“Awww maannnn,” one of the kids whines.

“Last round,” Peter calls out. “Who wants one last under-doggie before we have to go?”

All six kids scream out an affirmative.

“Okay, I’m gonna start at this end and I’m gonna go really fast so get ready!”

Harley and Abbie step out of the way and then Peter powers through under-doggies like he’s on an obstacle course. Before Harley knows it, Peter is jogging over to him with a wide grin, not even a little out of breath, just sweaty from being out in the sun.

Harley drops his hat onto his head and asks in a low tone, “How many times has Spider-Man gone to the park to push kids on the swings?”

Peter laughs awkwardly. “Only a couple times… a week.”

Harley snorts and hands him his camera. The three of them trek back up the hill much more slowly than they went down it. Peter turns and waves at the kids on the swings and they scream their goodbyes back at him and then he pulls up the recording Harley took of them swinging.

By the time they reach the top of the hill, Harley and Abbie are panting in the hot humid air and Peter looks like he didn’t even notice the climb. “This is good,” he says to Harley, but is still looking down at his camera. “You did a good job keeping us in frame and I can’t even hear you breathing in the background.”

“Thanks,” Harley says, heavy with sarcasm.

“I’m serious!” Peter says, looking up at him. “It’s a common problem! I like this a lot. I’ll drop you a copy once I get it uploaded.”

“You kids have fun?” Mama asks, grinning with amusement. “It’s been a while since I had to corral you off the playground.”

“Yeah, we did!” Peter answers genuinely, either not catching her teasing tone or not caring. “I’ve always loved swinging.”

Harley snorts. “Makes sense.”

Peter elbows him, but he’s still smiling.

“I was thinking we could head back to the house and I’ll whip us up some grub.”

“That would be amazing. I’m starving,” Peter admits. For a second Harley’s just pleased that Peter’s finally getting comfortable with his family and seems to have taken Mama’s lecture from earlier to heart. Then he remembers that they ate their sandwiches maybe an hour ago.

“Are you serious? We  _ just _ ate.”

“That was like a thousand under-doggies ago,” Peter points out.

“Alright, fair,” Harley says begrudgingly. “Lucky for you I only ate one of my sandwiches.”

Peter perks up. “Are you offering?”

“Well I wouldn’t tease you with it.” Harley rolls his eyes as Mama digs the leftover sandwich out of her bag and passes it to Peter.

They fall into step behind Mama and Abbie and start walking back towards the Ford dealership where they parked. Peter unwraps the sandwich but then hesitates. Harley bites back a sigh. He was so close.

“Just eat it,” he tells him.

“D’you want a bite?” Peter asks. “It’s your sandwich.”

“It’s not. I gave it to you so now it’s yours.”

Peter shrugs and takes a big bite. Fucking finally. His relief only lasts a handful of seconds before Peter is shoving the sandwich in his face, nearly driving him off the sidewalk in the process.

“I saved the best bite just for you,” Peter wheedles and sure enough Peter’s eaten around the sandwich so the middle protrudes out with no crust impeding the next bite.

“For the love of  God , Peter. Just eat it.”

“You can’t keep giving me all of your food,” Peter says, a spark of irritation in his tone. Abbie glances over her shoulder, eyebrows raised and then quickly turns back around when Harley catches her eye. He slows his pace to put some distance between them.

“I haven’t been. I ate a sandwich,” Harley points out.

“And then saved the second one for me. And last night you only ate half of your meal before you gave it to me and then made me two sandwiches. You can’t- You have to eat too.”

“I eat plenty. I wasn’t that hungry last night because we’d just had dinner a few hours before that. And besides, I do just fine waiting between meals.”

“So do I,” Peter insists, his jaw set stubbornly. “I don’t need you to coddle me.”

“Maybe I like to coddle,” Harley snaps. “Maybe it makes me feel good to take care of you. Maybe I do it for me, not because I think you need me.”

Something flickers in Peter’s face and he stares at Harley for a long moment, his jaw set stubbornly, before he looks down at the sandwich in his hand. They walk in tense silence for a while and let Mama and Abbie continue to pull ahead. Then Peter stops in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I like taking care of you too,” he blurts. He pulls in a deep breath and doesn’t look at Harley as he says, “I don’t… It makes me feel like a child when you do all this stuff for me but don’t let me return the favor. I just want… I want us to be on equal footing.”

_ Oh. _

Harley struggles for words. Eventually, he settles for saying, “Give me the sandwich.”

Nonplussed, Peter hands it to him. Harley takes a large bite, all middle, no crust, and then hands it back.

“Mmmm, we make a kickass PB&J,” he says as he chews.

A flicker of a smile appears on Peter’s lips. “If it was just me I wouldn’t have used enough peanut butter. I never really thought about globbing it on like that.”

“And I always use too much jelly and it gets all over when you bite into it,” Harley adds.

Peter smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet so Harley takes his free hand in his. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I guess I didn’t really think about it that way. I’ll be better about letting you do stuff for me, okay?”

Peter lets loose a pent up breath and steps into Harley’s space, letting his head fall on his shoulder. The cowboy hat nearly whacks Harley in the eye so he lifts it off of Peter’s head and returns it to his own.

“Okay,” Peter says into his shoulder.

Harley kisses the top of his head and then flinches back with a sound of disgust. “Gross, you’re sweaty!” He wipes the back of his hand across his lips and then pulls his shirt from his shoulder to wipe it there too while Peter laughs. His smile reaches his eyes this time and Harley realizes he wants to kiss him.

So he does.

“There,” Harley says when they part, “Now we both have sweat lips.”

Peter giggles. “That sounds like a term of endearment gone wrong.”

“Is that what I should call you now? Sweat lips?”

Peter laughs. “If either of us is using that name it should be me. You’re the OG sweat lips.”

Harley doesn’t have a good come back for that. “Eat your sandwich,” he says instead.

“D’you want another bite?” Peter asks, eyes watchful and earnest.

Truthfully, he doesn’t. He’s pretty thirsty and the peanut butter isn’t helping, but for Peter, he’d do just about anything. So when Peter holds out the sandwich, he leans in and takes a bite.

“Fanks,” he says through a mouthful of bread and peanut butter.

“You’re welcome,” Peter says, smiling happily to himself as he crams the rest into his mouth.

They intertwine their fingers and resume their leisurely walk. They can still see Mama and Abbie towards the end of the block so Harley isn’t worried about catching up. They’ve got time.

~*~

Back at home, Mama kicks them out of the house so she can put lunch together without them underfoot. Harley isn’t eager to trek back out into the heat but Peter seems excited so he doesn’t argue. Peter brings his camera and takes several pictures of the land out back before he asks Harley to give him a tour.

Harley stares at him. “A tour of what? There’s just grass and trees out there. You wanna see… Wanna see the pond?”

“Ooo there’s a pond?!”

Harley huffs a laugh. “Well, it’s kinda far out there. I’ll take you out there later. Maybe tomorrow if we run out of time today.”

“What else is there?” Peter asks. “You said Abbie has a horse and you said… chickens? D’you have other animals?”

Harley shakes his head. “Not unless you count the raccoons and the occasional coyote that wanders through.”

_ “ What? _ _”_ Peter exclaims. “Holy shit. D’you think we’ll see one?”

“A raccoon or-,”

“A coyote, dummy. I’ve seen raccoons.”

“I doubt it. They don’t usually come this close to where they know people live and never in the middle of the day. The horse can wait until tomorrow when we have time to ride but I can show you the chickens now if you want.”

Peter sighs. “Alright. Let’s see the chickens.”

Harley leads him around the side of the garage to the chicken coop and ducks inside. It’s dark and warm and maybe a little cramped, but the soft clucking of the hens is soothing. Peter follows and instantly covers his mouth and nose with his hand.

“Oh God.”

Harley laughs. “It ain’t so bad. C’mere.”

Peter steps closer, gingerly stepping around a questionable pile of straw.

“This here’s Priscilla,” Harley tells him, petting a finger down a fat hen’s back. “She’s a real sweetheart. You can pet her if you want.”

Hesitantly, Peter stretches out the hand not covering his face and gently runs his fingers down her back.

“Soft,” he says, sounding surprised.

“If you wanna reach under her you might find an egg.”

“Umm, no.”

“Oh come on. Why not?”

“Because… what if she pecks me or something? Or what if I touch poop?”

Harley snorts. “Chances are you already have and you just don’t know it yet.”

“Oh my God I have to get out of here,” he says. He whirls around to leave and then jumps back onto Harley’s toes when he finds another chicken blocking the exit.

“For fuck’s sake, Peter. Quit bein’ such a coward.”

“They have  _ talons .” _

“You’re Spider-Man!”

“Spider-Man doesn’t know shit about chickens, Harley!”

Harley laughs and it’s loud enough that a few of the chickens ruffle their feathers in annoyance.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Get me out of here,” Peter pleads.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Spider Baby.” Harley gently shoos Bethany out of the way and steers Peter out of the coop.

Out in the heat of the sun once more, Peter takes several large steps away from the coop and breathes deeply. “No more chickens,” he says sternly.

“No more chickens,” Harley agrees, unable to help the fond smile on his face as he ducks close to press a light kiss to Peter’s lips. “Wanna see the garage? I think it’s more your speed.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter agrees, sounding relieved.

They turn to head for the door to the garage and find Abbie lying in a hammock strung up between two trees holding a book. She’s already looking at them when they notice her, her eyebrows high on her forehead.

“Y’all are morons,” she says and then goes back to her book, eyebrows knit in a frown.

Peter turns to Harley, confusion written across his features. Harley just shrugs. Who is he to pick apart the inner workings of the sisterly mind?

Peter loves the garage. It probably helps that it has Tony Stark written all over it, making it feel familiar and homey. It’s not as nice and pristine as it once was. There are scuffs and dents and everything is worn and kind of placed wherever, but he loves it just as much as he did that first day he walked in and discovered it.

“How old were you when you made this?” Peter asks, holding up Harley’s old potato gun. The very one he threatened Tony with once upon a December evening.

“Eight. I’m sure you were building supercomputers already at eight.”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah, I was still in the take it apart to see how it works phase. It drove Uncle Ben crazy. Took me another year maybe to get into building my own stuff. Actually, I think it was pretty much right after the Stark Expo thing.”

Peter hops up onto the workbench and swings his feet as he looks around curiously and Harley is walloped in the gut by the familiarity of the action. It’s something he does all the time at the tower or at his apartment—places where he’s comfortable. This is the place Harley grew up. He spent more time in this garage than he did in his own bedroom. The times his ma had to come out here and wake him up to tell him to get to bed are too numerous to count. Before he was old enough for a cell phone she always joked about getting him his own landline for the garage so she could just call him instead of having to come all the way out here.

Every morning before school and as soon as he got home in the afternoon he’d come right here and build and tinker. Or eat. Or read comics. Or daydream about firing up the Mustang and driving it all the way to New York, never mind that he was only 12 at the time.

And here Peter is, swinging his feet. Happy. Relaxed. At home in the place Harley’s called home for the past 18 years.

“What?” Peter asks when he catches his stare.

Harley doesn’t answer. His feet carry him across the room before he’s even realized it and then he steps in between Peter’s knees and wraps a hand around the back of his neck to drag him down for a kiss. He makes it long and slow and brings his other hand up to cup Peter’s cheek and then slides it into his hair.

Peter sighs and then his hands are on Harley, one fisted in his hair and the other digging into his shoulder as he pulls him closer. His legs wrap around his waist and Harley gasps. Peter takes advantage and sucks Harley’s lip into his mouth causing a tingle to runs all up and down his spine. Distantly, he realizes the moan he just heard came from him but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed by it.

Eventually, Peter pulls back for air so Harley angles his head to the side and presses a series of wet kisses along his neck starting below his ear and trailing down to his collarbone. His skin is salty with sweat but somehow that only makes him more irresistible.

“God, Harley,” Peter gasps. “We gotta… We gotta slow down.”

With a pout, he leans back to look at Peter’s face, complaint on the tip of his tongue. It’s a mistake. Peter’s pupils are full and dark and his lips are swollen and spit-slicked and he’s looking at Harley he wants to-

“Fuck,” Harley whispers.

Peter’s eyes flutter shut as he visibly shivers. “Don’t,” he says.

Harley swallows thickly. “Kay.”

He takes the time to smooth Peter’s hair back down before he wraps his arms around his waist and leans into him, struggling to calm his racing heart and catch his breath. Peter relaxes his legs, letting them fall from where they’d been wrapped around his waist and loops his arms around Harley’s shoulders, holding him close. Every time Harley thinks he might be alright facing Peter again he remembers that look on his face, how dark with desire his eyes had been, and he has to start all over.

“That was umm, that was intense,” Peter says quietly.

“Yeah,” Harley agrees on a breath of air.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know it would be like that.”

“Yeah,” Harley says again. His brain feels like it’s detached from his body. Thoughts flit through his mind, but nothing sticks around long enough for him to latch onto it and turn it into words.

“Harley I… I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Peter asks hesitantly.

“What? No,” Harley says, leaning back to look Peter in the face. Familiar rings of brown circle his pupils once again. “You didn’t.” Peter bites his lip and Harley swallows thickly and makes a concentrated effort to look away from his lips and into his eyes. “Why would you think that? I am…  _ anything _ but hurt right now.”

Peter ducks his head. “I just… I usually- Umm…” Peter huffs, frustrated. “I always have to pay attention to how hard I grab things. I’ve crushed doorknobs trying to turn them and I’ve snapped forks clean in half trying to cut a pancake. So I… I’m always extra careful, especially with people. And I wasn’t… I wasn’t just then with you. I wasn’t paying attention to how hard I was holding you.”

Now that Peter mentions it, his shoulder does feel a tiny bit sore but it’s nothing. Nothing worth bringing up and nothing that Harley regrets.

“I’m not hurt,” Harley tells him, ducking a little to catch his eye. “I promise, you didn’t hurt me.”

Peter searches his gaze and then relaxes. “Okay. Good.” He closes his eyes. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever hurt you.”

Taking a risk, Harley moves one hand to Peter’s hip and raises the other to his cheek. Peter’s eyes snap open, but he doesn’t move away. Harley licks his lips nervously and then presses a kiss so softly to Peter’s lips that he wonders if he’d have even felt it if he wasn’t so hyper-sensitive to all things  _ Peter _ right now.

His heart pounds a secret message as he looks into Peter’s eyes and a slow smile curls his lips.

“What?” Peter asks, an echo of before.

_ IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou _ _,_ his heart thunders.

“Nothin’,” he says and runs his thumb along Peter’s cheekbone. “Just feelin’ a lotta things ‘bout you right now.”

Peter grins and leans his cheek into Harley’s hand. “Your accent is crazy thick right now.”

Harley smiles back. “Y’know ya love it, Spider Baby.”

_ IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou _

“I should come up with a pet name for you. You’re always calling me Spider Baby but I only ever call you Harley.”

“I thought I was sweat lips?”

A loud laugh bursts from Peter’s lips and Harley’s heart nearly combusts in his chest from the force of the tattoo beating against the undersides of his ribs.

_ IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou _

~*~

Harley passes through the rest of the day in a bit of a daze but if anyone notices they have to repeat themselves when speaking to him or that he keeps zoning out while looking at Peter, no one says anything.

As promised, he drives Abbie, him, and Peter to the pool after lunch. His not-as-healed-as-he-thought ankle rebels against even the simplest kicks so instead of swimming he hangs on the wall and watches Peter do increasingly complicated flips off the diving board. This continues until he does one so elaborate the lifeguard takes him aside and asks him to tone it down. After that, he teaches Abbie and her friends how to do a simple backflip off the diving board. When Abbie nails it Peter throws his fists in the air and cheers loud enough that everyone in the pool turns to look.

_ I love him. _

They head home after a few hours, sunburned and content and  _ starving _ _._ Luckily, Mama’s ready for them as soon as they walk through the door and they scarf down the pot roast she’s had in the slow cooker all day. There aren’t any leftovers and they roll themselves to the living room, stuffed.

They try to play a board game rather than watch TV, but him and Abbie spend too long arguing between Clue or Sorry and Peter falls asleep against Harley’s shoulder. They decide to leave the board games for another time and end up watching TV after all. Harley laces his fingers between Peter’s and even in his sleep, he grips back.

_ I love him. _

When Peter wakes up, they’re all camped in the living room; the TV’s playing but no one’s really watching it. Harley and Peter are on the couch, Peter slumped against Harley’s side and only Harley’s arm around his shoulders keeping him from toppling face-first to the carpet. Mama’s in her chair and has her crochet project in her lap. Her friend Mary Ellen is pregnant again so Mama’s makin’ a baby blanket just like she has for the previous four. Abbie’s on her stomach on the floor, phone under her nose scrolling and scrolling while chatting banally with Harley about everything from memes to school to town gossip.

“Apparently, it all started cuz Danielle tripped her when we were doin’ a square dance in gym,” Abbie says. She’s been rambling for a while now. All Harley has to do is nod along and sometimes hum and she just keeps going, jumping from one topic to the next like a trapeze artist. “Whether it was on purpose or not, I still think eggin’ her mama’s car was goin’ too far. Elliot was tellin’ me the egg ate through the paint and now it looks like hell ‘n everybody knows they ain’t got the money ta get it fixed. Not with her daddy bein’ at the bar every night at least.”

“Hold on,” Peter interrupts, words slurred with sleep. His eyes aren’t even open and he’s still dead weight against Harley’s side. He was out cold for two whole hours. Apparently, a few hours of swimming followed by a big meal is the perfect combination to tranq a young spider boy. He squints one eye open and asks, “You square dance at school? Like as part of a class?”

“Line dance too,” Abbie says, without looking up from her phone. “‘Bout time you woke up. Thought you died for a hot minute.”

“What the fu-,” Peter glances at Mama and cuts himself off with an audible clack of teeth that has Harley wincing in sympathy. She makes a satisfied little hum and continues crocheting while he blushes brilliantly.

“They don’t teach any dances at city schools?” Harley asks. It’s a struggle to keep from kissing him while he’s all sleepy-looking and blushing like that, but Mama and Abbie are in the room so he manages.

“Uh no? I mean, I think there was an elective for gym, but like… no one did that and it was ballroom or something. You guys did go to public school, right? Not some weird private school for cowboys and rodeo clowns?”

Abbie shoots him a sour look and sets aside her phone. Oh no. Harley knows that look. He narrows his eyes at her, but she doesn’t even glance his way.

“I betcha Harley’d show you the ropes,” she tells Peter with a sweet smile. “Can’t have you leavin’ after comin’ this close to Nashville and not learn a simple line dance.”

“Technically, the electric slide is a line dance,” Harley interjects in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Okay, now I know you’re messing with me,” Peter says, craning his neck to squint suspiciously up at Harley. “Line dances have the kick thing. There’s no kicking in the electric slide.”

“Oh Peter,” Abbie says while Mama clicks her tongue.

Harley sighs. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” Peter asks. “I thought line dances are when like, the girls line up? And they do the kicking thing? Like in Mean Girls at the talent… No?”

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” Abbie is muttering under her breath as she taps furiously on the screen of her phone. Harley just groans, long and loud.

“Do it outside,” Mama says. “I won’t be replacin’ another picture frame if y’all get too rowdy.”

“What’s happening?” Peter whispers in Harley’s ear.

“I’m gonna have to teach you a line dance,” Harley tells him. “And it looks like Abbie’s pickin’ the song. Anything but the Watermelon Crawl, I’m begging,” he tells her.

She grins up at him, all teeth. “Anything?”

“Oh fuck.”

_ “Mouth,” _ Mama says.

“Sorry, ma. What’re you gonna torture me with, Bee?”

She grins at him and suddenly he just  _ knows. _

“Not 5, 6, 7, 8.”

“Yes,” she says, clambering to her feet. “C’mon Rodeo Romeo. Get off your backside, grab your boot-scootin’ baby, and let’s teach ‘im a thing or two about dancing. I’m gonna grab my speaker.”

She disappears through the kitchen and they can hear her clomping up the stairs at speed.

“I feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Peter says.

“That’s because you have, dummy. That stupid song’s gonna be stuck in my head for the rest of the week thanks to you.”

They’re silent for a handful of seconds as they listen to Abbie’s footsteps creak over their heads. Then Peter says, “Are you gonna wear your boots?”

Harley sighs and he sees Mama hide a smile. “If that’s what you want. I got a couple pairs so you can wear one too.”

“Really?” Peter sits up straight, revealing his bed head to the room in all its glory. His curls are wild and tousled and it takes all of Harley’s self-control not to ruck them up even more to see how messy he can make them. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s dance!”

~*~

Harley and Peter stand facing each other in the middle of the dirt circle of the driveway, the cars parked in the grass to give them space with the sun throwing shoots of pink through the trees that ring their property. The sky is still more blue than black but it won’t be long now before they need to leave if they’re going to make the firework show in Marville. Abbie’s perched on the porch rail with her little portable speaker next to her hip and Peter’s camera held securely in both hands.

“So a line dance is choreographed,” Harley is telling Peter, fingers stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. Peter keeps swiveling on the heels of his boots in the dirt and randomly grinning down at them. It’s adorable and incredibly distracting. “Like the electric slide or umm, you know Old Town Road? There’s a line dance for that one too I’m pretty sure.”

“There is,” Abbie says.

“Whereas a square dance is called.”

Peter stares at him expectantly and then asks, “Called what?”

Abbie laughs and Harley can’t help but crack a smile.

“Called means that someone like a DJ tells you what to do. So they tell you to grapevine left then right or to promenade then you do that.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Peter says with a bemused grin. “Is a grapevine a dance move? Is it where you whisper gossip in your partner’s ear?” As though to demonstrate, Peter leans in and whispers in Harley’s ear, “Your boyfriend thinks you look really good in those boots and also wants you to make sure you pack them.”

“Hey, hey! Little sister is still here!” Abbie shouts. “No gross mushy stuff. I’m sensitive.”

She’s aro/ace, but that’s beside the point.

“Maybe you should clear off then,” Harley says, not taking his eyes off Peter’s where he’s still standing close and trying not to smile too wide. “Not sure what you thought was gonna happen here, Bee.”

“Ugh,” she groans, hopping off the rail. “I  _ thought _ I was gonna get to watch Peter stumble around like a little baby fawn while I tortured you with a song you hate.”

“Hmm. Forgot to factor in feelings again.”

“Oh shut up. Not my fault y’all are slaves to your body’s chemical reactions.”

“Wait,” Peter says, tilting his head to the side. “Wouldn’t that make the electric slide a square dance then?”

“What?” Harley asks, thrown by the random, unrelated question.

“You said it’s a line dance, but the DJ guy in the song tells you what to do so that’d make it a square dance, right?”

Abbie cackles loudly as she disappears into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her. She left her speaker as well as Peter’s camera behind on the rail, pointed towards them with the little red light glowing on the front.

“I… I mean, I guess,” Harley says, disgruntled. He glances towards the house and then back at Peter and takes his hand. “Okay, we got rid of her. D’you wanna-,”

“What?” Peter shakes his hand free. “I wanna learn how to line dance! You said you’d teach me!”

“Are you- You actually wanna learn?”

“I mean,  _ yeah. _ When in Rome, right? And now that this gap in my worldly knowledge has been brought to my attention, it’d be irresponsible of me to ignore it. How do we start? Do I face you, or-?”

“It ain’t a waltz,” Harley says, rolling his eyes. “You stand side by side, in a line. Or a grid if you got a big group.”

“Oh that’s right. Like the electric slide.” Peter pivots on his heel, crunching the dirt and then grins over at Harley. “Now what?”

Harley walks him through the dance steps… Well, he tries to.

“Hands on your hips. No, no. The front of your hips like you’re about to slide your hands into your pockets. Like this. Yeah, that’s it. Okay, and now twist your hips like- Hips, Peter. Your  _ hips. _ You do know what your hips are, right? What are you  _ doing?” _

“Okay, so I’m actually like… really bad at dancing?” Peter says with a shy smile.

“You don’t say,” Harley says dryly. There’s no way they’re going to get through the whole dance before fireworks. Time to improvise.

He steps in front of Peter and puts his hands on his hips. “Okay, so-,”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to face each other,” Peter says, cheeks tinted pink as he looks up through his eyelashes at Harley.

“Just while you’re learnin’,” Harley says. God, he wants to kiss him. He masters himself and clears his throat. “So hands on your hips.” Peter puts his hands on his hips, not taking his eyes off Harley’s face while Harley can’t seem to lift his eyes from where their hands are nearly touching. “And uh, twist your hips like this.” He guides Peter’s hips with his hands.

“Oh,” Peter says.

Harley snorts. “And while you twist you pivot on the balls of your feet and then on your heels, like this.” He takes half a step back and shows him, keeping his boots parallel as he walks to the side by pivoting his feet. Peter’s grin grows impossibly wider as he watches.

“Can you show me again? I don’t think I quite got it.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Peter laughs. “But for real though. Like this?” He pivots his right foot left and his left foot right and trips, nearly face-planting in the dirt.

“Oh boy,” Harley mutters while Peter laughs at himself.

It takes a solid half-hour, but Harley succeeds in walking him through the first few moves and figures they can just repeat those infinitely until the song ends. It’s worth it to see the delighted grin on Peter’s face and maybe Harley gets a little into it, adding some flourishes of his own just to make Peter laugh. They’re in the middle of their second play-through of the song when the screen door slams open and Abbie tromps out with an armful of blankets, followed by Mama with more of the same.

“Alright, dance floor doofuses,” Abbie says loudly over the music.

> _ My rodeo Romeo _
> 
> _ A cowboy god from head to toe _
> 
> _ Wanna make you mine _
> 
> _ Better get in line _
> 
> _ 5, 6, 7, 8! _

“Wipe off the drool. It’s time for fireworks.”

“Abigale Marie,” Mama says, “that’s enough outta you.”

Abbie rolls her eyes where Mama can’t see and behind her back, Mama does the same with a silent sigh that seems to beg for patience.

“I’ll take those, ma,” Harley offers, holding out his arms for the blankets while Peter darts over to shut off the speaker and grab his camera. Mama shoots him a grateful look and kisses his cheek.

“It’s good to have you home,” she tells him softly.

“I heard that!” Abbie yells from where she’s unceremoniously cramming her stack of blankets into the trunk.

Mama shoots Harley a telling stare and then schools her face and says to Abbie, “Wasn’t nothin’ to do with you, baby. You know that.”

Abbie snorts and gets in the backseat. Harley moves to take the blankets to the car as well, but Mama stops him with a hand on his forearm.

“She’s been missin’ you more than she’s been lettin’ on,” she says in a hushed tone. “I know how it is startin’ a new relationship ‘n all, but try not to leave her out, okay? She just wants to spend time with you.”

Immediately, he feels guilty. He hadn’t shut her out on purpose, but he’s been focused a lot on Peter and that’s not fair. “I’ll do better. Promise.”

Mama smiles and pats his cheek. “I know. You’re a good man. Not sure how I lucked out with you.”

“Aww ma, you know it wasn’t luck. Your hard work paid off is all. Remember what a little terror I used to be?”

She snorts. “That’s what I mean. Lucked out that I didn’t accidentally drop you down a well when you were Abbie’s age.”

Harley throws his head back and laughs.

“Get those blankets in the car,” Mama orders. “Peter sweetheart, I forgot a sack of snacks on the counter. Would you grab it for me?”

Peter, who’d been fidgeting uncomfortably next to the porch, visibly torn on whether he should wait or get in the car, looks relieved at the clear direction. “Snack sack. Got it! You want me to lock up on my way out?”

“That’s not necessary,” Mama says with an amused little smile. “The coons ain’t figured out how to work the knob yet.”

“Right,” Peter says, looking deeply uncomfortable as he heads for the house. “Okay. I won’t lock the house that we’re all leaving. I’m fine with that. Totally… Totally fine.”

He disappears into the house and Mama follows Harley to the trunk.

“I like him,” she tells him quietly. “What I like even more though is seein’ you happy. No matter what happens between you and Peter, I want you to promise me you’ll keep that smile, okay?”

“Yeah okay.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m uh, I’m sorry I was such a handful growin’ up. ‘Specially since it was just you dealin’ with both Abbie and me.”

“It was worth it. I’ll always love my dirt eatin’, bug befriendin’ little boy but I’m mighty fond of the kind, compassionate man you turned out to be.”

His throat feels tight as he says, “Love you too, ma.”

The screen door bangs open and Peter stumbles out onto the porch, the tip of his boot catching on the lip of the doorway. “Ack! I’m okay! Snacks are acquired. Door’s not locked. Are we good?”

Harley pulls the trunk closed and trades a grin with Mama. “Yeah, we’re good. Ready for fireworks?”

~*~

They all pile into the station wagon and drive to the park in Marville where the fireworks will be launched over the lake. The day time activities have all been cleared away and now there’s stands selling glow sticks, sparklers, and pop-pop firecrackers—the little paper-wrapped balls that make a loud pop when you throw them hard enough at the ground. Harley and Abbie definitely don’t throw them at each other when Mama’s not looking. The air is already hazy with smoke and reeks of sulfur. Harley breathes in deep as he waits in line with Peter at the glow stick stand.

Once they’re all four decked out with their glowing jewelry, they take turns spraying each other with bug spray and lay out the blankets. Peter opted for making his necklace a little crown of blue, purple, and pink and Harley’s heart flips every time he smiles up at him beneath the glow. They settle on the blankets and throw as many pretzel sticks at each other as they eat while they wait for the show to start and listen to Abbie moan about the lack of black and gray glow sticks while she stares enviously at Peter’s glowing bi circlet. Harley gives her his purple one so she can at least have a solid purple bracelet. She gives him her red one in return and he ends up with a red and blue necklace that Mama calls very patriotic, but has Harley and Peter swapping pleased little smiles.

When the first firework pops off Harley is sitting cross-legged with Peter’s head in his lap and holding his hands over his ears so Peter is free to point at his favorites and _ooo_ and _ahh_ to his heart’s delight.

After the finale, they shake grass and stray pretzels from their blankets and head back to the car along with the crowd. It always takes forever to get out of town with everyone from Marville, Rose Hill, and the other nearby small communities all trying to do the same, but they’re in no hurry. Mama turns on an oldies station and they’re ushered out of town with the soft static crooning and twangy guitars of days gone by.

Once they cross the city limit and escape the smokey haze from the fireworks, the stars are visible. There’s so many. He’s almost forgotten what a clear night out here looks like. He’s gotten used to the perpetually blank sky in the city, only a handful of stars visible. Out here, they spread across the sky like a blanket. He’s  missed the stars. He stares at them out the window while Peter and Abbie chatter happily about their favorite parts of the day.

When they get home, they step out of the car into the driveway and Peter gasps so loudly that for a second Harley thinks they’re being attacked. "Holy shit," Peter breathes. His head is tilted all the way back as he gapes up at the sky.

Harley looks up and doesn’t see a UFO descending upon them but then he remembers this is Peter’s first clear night outside of light-polluted cities. "The stars?" he asks.

"Yeah," Peter says without looking away from the sky. "You see them too?"

Harley chuckles and plucks Peter’s glowing circlet from his hair before it can fall to the dirt. "Yeah. You don’t get ‘em like this in the city."

"No… No, we don’t."

Peter looks and looks and after a while Mama says she’s going to head inside, but they’re welcome to the blankets still in the car if Peter wants to stay out.

“Yeah… That would be… Thanks Ms. Keener,” Peter says.

She chuckles and rubs his back fondly before heading inside. Abbie decides to join them in their impromptu stargazing and helps Harley lay out the blankets on a good spot on the grass.

They lay out in the yard for a long time. Harley has one arm behind his head and the other tucked around Peter while Abbie lays nearby enough that they can talk quietly. Luckily, they’re still doused in bug spray from earlier so the mosquitoes don’t bother them too much. It’s a warm night with the occasional distant pop of fireworks and a chorus of crickets and frogs to soothe them into a trance.

“I heard somewhere that the ones that kind of twinkle when you stare at them are stars, but the ones that are steady are planets,” Abbie says.

“Yeah? What about the ones that blink?” Harley asks, tracking the blinking lights of a jet way up above them.

“Aliens,” Abbie says dryly. “Actually I was listening to a podcast and they were talking about chemtrails and-,”

Harley groans. “Please don’t tell me you’re still into conspiracy theories.”

“I’m not  _ into _ them,” Abbie says, turning onto her side to glare. Harley flops his head to the side and gives her a long-suffering look. “Some of this stuff is legit.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Maybe, but the chemtrail thing is just people making stuff up to explain things they don’t understand. If they’d just look into the science-,”

“They  _ have _ _._ That’s what I was trying to  _ tell you _ if you’d shut up for two seconds and let me talk,” Abbie says. “The podcast I was listening to explained the whole condensation thing but they also brought up that there are chemicals in a jet’s exhaust that are freezing in the condensation and that it wouldn’t be a stretch for the government to add more.”

“That’s stupid,” Harley says.

“It’s not!”

“It’s so convoluted! If they wanted to poison us with chemicals there’s tons easier ways to do it that don’t leave giant obvious trails in the fucking sky.”

“All I’m saying is that it’s a possibility,” Abbie snaps. “It doesn’t hurt to just think about stuff sometimes, you know.”

“What’s the point? People love to get all worked up about that shit but you can’t prove it and you can’t change it so why bother?”

“We  _ could _ prove it and we  _ could _ change it if people would entertain the possibility,” Abbie says. “But people like you would rather bury their heads in the sand than think about difficult things.”

“Can we not fight?” Peter asks abruptly.

Harley blinks and looks down at him. He’s still facing up, but he’s frowning and his hands are clenched together tightly where they’re resting on his stomach.

“We’re not fighting,” he and Abbie say in unison, equally nonplussed.

Peter cranes his neck to look up at Harley, an expression of doubt tugging his face into a scowl. “That was fighting. You were both so angry.”

Harley glances at Abbie and she shrugs. “We weren’t though. Right, Bee?”

“Yeah. I mean, Harley’s always annoying but it takes more than his stubborn ass to actually make me mad.”

Peter sighs and mumbles something but all Harley catches is ‘sibling’ and ‘baffling’. He snorts and kisses Peter’s forehead.

“Gross. If you guys are gonna start making out I’m going inside,” Abbie complains, rolling to her feet.

Harley smacks his lips together obnoxiously. “Oh,  Peter! ” he exclaims in a high, breathy voice.

Abbie pulls a face at him but he can tell she’s holding back a smile. “You’re such a butt. I hope you get a mosquito bite on your nose and it looks like a giant zit for a whole week.”

Harley ignores her and keeps making the kissing noises until she huffs and starts walking back to the house.

“Be nice,” Peter says, poking Harley’s side.

“ Oh,  _ Peter! _ _”_ Harley exclaims, more than loud enough for Abbie to hear and then he quickly rolls to straddle Peter’s thighs.

“Harley!” Peter yelps in surprise but then Harley’s tickling his sides mercilessly and Peter is helpless against the assault. His peals of laughter echo through the still night as he squirms, trying and failing to get away. “H-Harley, p-p-please! S-stop!”

Harley takes mercy on him and rests his hands on Peter’s hips while he catches his breath. Peter’s cheeks are flushed pink and he has a wide smile on his face even as he gulps down air. He looks up and meets Harley’s eyes and Harley’s heart stutters in his chest.

_ I love him. _

“Did she go inside?” Peter asks.

Harley cranes around to look towards the house and doesn’t see any sign of her. Then he feels guilty as he remembers his promise not to exclude her. Oops. They still have another full day though. He’ll just have to make sure they get some quality time together tomorrow. “Yeah, I think so-,”

The earth turns and suddenly Harley’s on his back and Peter has a knee on either side of his hips. Harley only has half a second to think  _ holy shit _ before Peter’s fingers begin to dance along his sides. He barks a laugh and tries to wiggle free, but Peter locks his knees around his hips and just like that he’s pinned and nearly crying from laughing so hard.

“Okay! I give, I give!”

Peter sits back with a smirk and Harley sucks down air as residual giggles tumble from between his lips. He finally catches his breath only to look up and find Peter already looking back and it’s immediately stolen again.

“Hey c’mere,” Harley says softly. “You’ve got somethin’ on your face.”

Peter leans forward without hesitation. “Oh, what is it? If it’s a booger it’s probably yours.”

Harley barks out a laugh. “You ruined my pick-up line, Parker,” he says with delight and then he leans up and kisses him anyway.

Peter makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat and then leans into the kiss until the back of Harley’s head comes to rest on the ground and Peter puts his hands on the ground on either side of Harley’s head to hold himself up. Harley slips a hand around the back of Peter’s neck and the other one fists in the front of his shirt as their lips move together.

Peter breaks away first, drawing in a sharp breath as he sits back on his haunches. Harley has the urge to haul him right back down, but instead, he lets him side through his fingers as he catches his breath.

“What was it?” Peter asks.

Harley blinks at him. “What was what?”

Peter smiles. “What was your pick-up line? You said something was on my face. I’m guessing it wasn’t a booger.”

Harley laughs lightly. “A smile.”

Peter wrinkles his nose but his smile grows broader. “Wow. Cheesy.”

“It was right up your alley,” Harley argues. “I’ve seen all of your terrible science pun shirts so you can’t pretend with me.”

Peter shrugs and then he kisses him, keeping it much more chaste this time. When he leans back he shivers.

“Wanna go in?” Harley asks. It’s not cold out but maybe it’s a weird spider thing he doesn’t know about yet.

Peter cranes his neck back to look up at the sky and says, “No.”

“Well then get down here. You’re gonna crick your neck doin’ that.”

Peter snorts but does as he’s told and settles down against Harley’s side like they were before Harley instigated a tickle fight to annoy/amuse his sister. There’s a distant pop of a firework and they can just barely see a flash of pink through the trees that separate them from town.

Harley feels full and he doesn’t mean his stomach. This is what he’s been missing. New York is great in a lot of ways, but he’s been absolutely sick for this for so long. He’s  _ home _ _._ He’s got Peter at his side and Mama and Abbie are a stones throw away. Life couldn’t be better than it is right now in this moment.

He must drift off because the next thing he knows, Abbie is shaking him awake. “Hey turd. Mama says to come in. She doesn’t want you to sleep out here.”

He grumbles a little but rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks them open obediently. Peter is dead weight on his arm and he can feel him breathing evenly against the side of his neck. 

Abbie stands to go but then hesitates. “She also said you gotta sleep on the couch and that Peter can take your bed, bein’ the guest ‘n all.”

He sighs. “Right.” Separated at last.

Abbie drags one of the blankets inside with her and Harley waits until she’s gone before he wakes Peter.

“Hey, Spider Baby. We gotta head inside now.”

Peter snuffles and turns onto his side, flinging an arm around Harley and curling in close. “No,” he mumbles into Harley’s chest. Harley’s heart flips.

_ I love him. _

“I don’t make the rules here, bud. Mama says we gotta come in. And I guess I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

Peter hums and mumbles, “Same.”

“No, sweetheart. You’re gonna sleep in my room tonight and I’m gonna sleep on the couch.”

Peter is silent. Did he fall back asleep? “…Peter?”

He sighs. “Okay, fine.”

Harley ducks down and presses a kiss to his forehead and then pokes at his side. “C’mon lazy bones. Up and at ‘em.”

He wiggles out from under Peter’s arm as Peter groans unhappily and rolls into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

_ I love him. _

They trudge into the house and pass Mama in the kitchen who collects their blanket to put in the wash and kisses each of them on the forehead before sending them upstairs to get changed. Peter looks a little bewildered at the display of affection but follows Harley up the stairs wearily without freaking out about it.

They change into pajamas and Harley makes sure Peter makes it into bed and under the covers. He’s already dozing off when Harley tells him goodnight and kisses his cheek.

He wakes up just enough to say, “Night. Love you,” and then he’s asleep and Harley is frozen,  _ staring _ at him with his heart pounding in his chest, the same words ready to trip off the tip of his tongue.

“Peter?” he asks instead, barely a whisper. He doesn’t receive a response beyond a light snore. Throwing caution into the wind, he smooths a lock of hair off of Peter’s forehead and whispers, “I love you too.”

~*~

Abbie gasps. “Holy crap. He said it?!”

Harley shushes her even though they’re the only ones anywhere near the chicken coop. It’s freaking early and Peter hasn’t emerged from his room yet, which isn’t surprising but Harley can’t help but worry. He really hopes he’s still asleep and isn’t hiding because of what he said last night.

He reaches under Bethany and finds a couple of eggs that he passes to Abbie. She puts them in the bucket with the others.

“It was an accident,” Harley admits reluctantly. “He was mostly asleep. Probably thought he was talking to May or something.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Harley purses his lips. No, not really. He thinks Peter was talking to him. Probably. He thinks he meant it. Maybe. But he’s sure that he didn’t mean to  _ say  _ it . He’s afraid he’ll regret it or try to take it back when he wakes up and remembers. If he remembers. He was pretty out of it.

They finish collecting eggs and step out into the fresh air. The sun is just cresting the horizon and Harley can already tell it’s going to be another hot muggy day. A warm breeze tousles his hair and he impatiently swipes it out of his eyes. When was the last time he got a hair cut?

“Everything going okay around town?” he asks Abbie as they troop towards the house. “That Miller girl still being a twat?”

Abbie rolls her eyes. “I don’t need you motherin’ me, Harley.”

“I’m just checking in, Bee.” Harley hesitates but then decides to just lay it all out there. This is his last full day. He might as well say all the things he’s been thinking while he’s been away in New York. “I feel like I’m missing all the little stuff by not being here.”

“Yeah and instead you get to be in the city and be in the know on all the latest superhero drama.” Abbie’s tone doesn’t hold an ounce of sympathy.

“There’s not as much drama as you’d expect.” That is, so long as Peter doesn’t do anything particularly stupid and life-threatening. The Avengers do their thing and keep the world spinning and most of the time, the world is none the wiser for it. He doesn’t want to tell Abbie that though. It’s better if people don’t realize how often reality is threatened on a galactic scale. He knows he’d prefer not to know.

“I been meanin’ to ask, what’s up with your watch?” Abbie jerks her chin at his wrist. “I thought it was new at first but it’s the same one Mama bought you for graduating, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harley holds out his wrist so she can see it better. “I tricked it out after the whole kidnapping thing.”

“What is all this?” She touches the little canister beside the face of the watch with a yellow stripe around its middle.

“Well, that one’s a flash grenade.”

“What?! That’s so cool! What about this one?” She points at the red-striped canister on the opposite side of the face.

“Pepper spray bomb.” He turns his wrist so she can see the buttons on the side. “Here’s the panic button that alerts F.R.I.D.A.Y. if I need immediate help. This one discharges the taser.”

“Holy crap.”

“And this one,” he smirks, pointing to the last button, “is my favorite. It activates my B.F.F., or as I call him, Biff.”

Abbie shakes her head. “Okay nerd, I’ll bite. Who’s Biff?”

“This little guy,” Harley taps the face of his watch and Abbie leans closer. A tiny black spider is resting in the center of the watch face where the minute and hour hands meet.

“A spider? Getting rescued by Spider-Man really left an impression on you, huh?” she says with a peculiar little smile on her face.

Harley smiles to himself thinking of how Abbie would freak out (in a good way) if she found out that Harley’s actually dating Spider-Man. “You could say that.”

She rolls her eyes. “So what’s it do? What’s B.F.F. stand for? I’m guessing it’s not best friends forever.”

“Nah, it’s uh, Baffle Foolish Felons.” Abbie barks a laugh and Harley grins as he explains, “When I push the button it scuttles off the watch and hides somewhere at least 25 feet away and then makes a beeping noise. It’s meant to be a distraction.”

“Show me,” Abbie demands, eyes lit up with interest.

Harley pushes the button and they both watch as Biff jumps off his watch more like a flea than a spider and zips across the porch and out of sight around the corner of the house. A moment later they hear the beeping.

“That’s so cool,” Abbie says.

Harley beams.

“Does he come back on his own or do you have to find him?”

“As long as he doesn’t get stepped on or something he’ll come back. There’s a homing beacon in the watch that he follows after a few minutes and he’s small enough he can slip under doors or through other spider-sized cracks.” 

Abbie tilts her head to the side and considers him with a smile.

“What?”

She shrugs. “I’m glad you went. To New York, that is. The whole kidnapping thing kinda freaked me out, but… it’s been good for you. When do I get to come visit?”

Harley scratches his nose. “Uh, I dunno. Either Thanksgiving or Christmas?”

“And then you have to come home for the other one.” Abbie looks at him with a stern expression that brokers no arguments.

Harley smiles. “Deal.”

They enter the screened-in porch and kick off their mucking boots to join the shoe pile, but before they enter the house proper Abbie stops and turns to face him.

“You're different.”

Harley blinks at her. “Am not,” he argues reflexively.

“You are,” she insists. “You're not hiding in your head all the time and you smile more and you get excited about stuff that you used to get all defensive and secretive about. It's good. I'm glad you're happy.”

Harley opens his mouth but then closes it, not sure what to say. He knows he’s different. It makes him a little sad and a little ashamed to think of how he used to be. Abbie and Mama deserved better from him.

“Me too,” he finally says.

“So when are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” He doesn’t have to ask who she’s talking about.

“That you love him back.”

Harley’s heart skips a beat. “I… He didn’t know what he was saying. No really,” he says at Abbie’s skeptical expression. “I just… I don’t wanna rush him.”

“He said it first though!”

Harley wrinkles his nose. “I’m gonna wait until he says it again, just to be sure.”

“Oh my God.”

“We just started dating two days ago, Bee,” Harley says, exasperated. “I can’t tell him…  _ that _ _…_ after only two days. It’s way too soon. He’ll freak out.”

“Can it be too soon if it’s the truth?” Abbie asks, eyebrow arched. She doesn’t wait for him to respond before spinning around dramatically and striding into the house. Harley rolls his eyes at her theatrics. Some things just don’t change.

Privately, he thinks she has a point but he knows he’s right too. He knows Peter and he’s the over-thinking type. Harley’s already worried he’s going to over-think last night and push Harley away because of it. He doesn’t need to make things worse by telling Peter something he isn’t ready to hear. And besides, getting this right is worth waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: When I was writing this chapter I was in so deep that I heard a firework go off in real life and was like wow 10pm is kinda late for fireworks. Rude. And kept writing and then like 10 minutes later I was like HOLD ON, it’s NOVeMBEr wHO is shooting fireworks?!
> 
> Special shout Out to Ashpaw113 for inspiring line dancing scene! I stayed up until midnight last Thursday writing it and then that sweet little scene between Mama and Harley in the driveway spawned into existence too so everyone please join me in thanking them. All together now: THANK YOU ASHPAW113!!!!
> 
> Only four chapters left *cries* My OG plan was to have the sequel ready to post chapter 1 the same day I post the last chapter of this fic, but I'm 70k in and the end is nowhere in sight so that might not work out as cleanly as I'd hoped. I'm gonna keep hacking away at it though and hopefully I'll run into a productive streak and get past these sticky spots that are giving me fits.
> 
> Ugh look at me ramble. Longest author note ever. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! Nothing gives me more joy than watching this fic blow up! I love you all! Hope you're all safe and healthy and finding little pockets of joy every day <333


	16. See what I see

~ ** Peter ** ~

Peter wakes up alone and confused. Well, not alone. Bumpurr is curled up right in front of his nose and her fur tickles every time he inhales. He pets her absently as he listens to the sounds that carry up through the floorboards from the kitchen. Ms. Keener is already up and around and from the smell of it, cooking breakfast. Peter is feeling very spoiled by all of the home-cooked meals.

He considers going down but the bed is comfy and warm and the blankets smell freshly laundered and he feels tired. Well-rested, sure. But also tired. He wonders if this is what homesickness feels like. He wonders if this is how Harley feels all the time in New York. He’s been trying not to think about New York mostly because every time he does he feels guilty and wonders how the city is holding up without Spider-Man. It’s only been three days and he’s definitely taken three-day breaks before, but soon it’ll be four days and then five. He’s never been away for that long without a medical reason. Not in the two and a half years he’s been Spider-Man.

But this is more than guilt. This is a longing for his own bed, whether it’s the one in Queens or the one in the tower. This is him wishing for time to himself to relax in a place where he’s comfortable. This is wanting to not have to be  _ on _ in every waking moment. He wants to unwind and recharge without worrying that people are expecting things from him, even if the only thing that’s expected of him here is to be pleasant and present.

He misses May.

He sighs and kisses Bumpurr’s little head. He might as well take advantage of this time to himself while he has it. He has no doubt that Ms. Keener will call them all to breakfast once it’s ready.

He sets up his laptop and takes his SD card out of his camera to pop it into the slot in his computer. It takes a few minutes to load so he scrolls lazily through Instagram while he waits. Should he make a photography Insta? He’s already got his personal Peter Parker one, Spider-Man’s, his dog watch one, and his secret anonymous one that he uses to mess with Sam and Bucky sometimes. If he’s going to be doing pictures for Barb’s website, then it might be worth looking into what else he could be doing with his photography. Eh, he’ll think about it some more before committing.

Once it’s done loading, he clicks through all of the pictures, marking a few as favorites to go back and edit later. Then he watches the videos. He makes notes on what chunks of which videos he wants to include in their vlog and makes some pretty good progress before Ms. Keener finally calls him down to breakfast. He feels better after the time spent on his own involved in a project and kisses Harley good morning when they meet at the bottom of the stairs.

“What?” Peter asks when he catches Harley staring at him funny. He’d noticed him staring a lot yesterday too, but kind of thought that he’d go back to normal after they’d both had time to come to grips with their make-out sesh in the garage.

“I was just wondering… Are you good?”

Peter blinks at him. Is this because of the kissing thing? Or something else? “I… Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t… avoiding me or something.”

“Why would I avoid you?” Peter asks, baffled. “I was just going through videos and stuff. Picking out good clips for our montage.”

Harley searches his eyes like he’s trying to make sure Peter’s telling the truth and then he smiles, relieved. “No reason. I’m just bein’ dumb I guess. Is there a lot of usable footage?”

Despite his confusion, Peter lets Harley steer the conversation to their video as they enter the dining room where Ms. Keener and Abbie are setting the table. Harley isn’t the type to be clingy so he doesn’t think the problem is that Peter stayed up in the bedroom rather than come find him as soon as he woke up. He hopes that isn’t it anyway. He’s heard stories about people suddenly changing when they start dating, but still… That doesn’t seem very Harley to him.

He barely remembers making it to bed last night so maybe Harley said something insensitive to him and he’s worried Peter’s taking it badly. Whatever it is, Peter makes the choice to let it go. If Harley says it’s not a big deal then he’s going to trust him. As Harley grins at him around a mouthful of biscuits and gravy, Peter thinks whatever it was couldn’t have been too important.

~*~

The day passes in a blur of activity. It’s already humid and hot despite being barely ten in the morning so they bring their swim things, still damp from the day before, and drive the four-wheelers to the pond. Abbie is just as wild a driver as Harley and they race through trees and over grassy plains with Peter clinging to Harley for dear life. He wishes he could whip out his web shooters and give them both a run for their money. He could beat them so long as there’s plenty of trees to swing from.

At the pond, they dunk each other and take turns carrying each other on their shoulders and are generally rowdy in the way they weren’t allowed to be at the public pool. It’s funny, he’d never really noticed before how tactile Harley is. He’d always assumed he was the touchy-feely one of their pair, but watching him rough-house with Abbie, he thinks maybe he’d been too quick to assume.

After a few hours, their empty stomaches draw them back to the house where Ms. Keener has loose meat sandwiches waiting for them. They pound them down, help with clean up, and then they’re off to the next thing.

Harley and Abbie take him out to the pasture to meet Abbie’s horse, Garfunkel. He tries riding him but ultimately decides that horseback riding isn’t for him. He’s  _ much _ more interested in watching Harley ride the horse in his cowboy boots and hat and takes a million pictures, to Harley’s dismay.

Abbie rides like she’s in a western film outrunning a team of bandits while chasing a train. Or maybe she’s the bandit, Peter’s not sure. Harley tells him it’s because she wants to be an actress so everything she does is over the top and dramatic.

“Does she really?”

“Want to be an actress?” Harley asks. “Yeah, always has. I sorta got her into it. I was a dumb little shit growing up and was always trying to mess with people. Never really worked. Abbie though… she’s good. You should hear some more of her accent work. Don’t tell her I said so, but it’s impressive.”

“Her Queens accent was pretty much spot on,” Peter says.

Harley nods. “She’s gonna make it big if I can get her out of this dustbowl of a town.”

Peter knocks his shoulder into Harley’s as they watch Abbie weave between barrels. “We’ll get her out. She’s gonna be great.”

Harley looks at him with a soft smile and that warm look in his eyes that he’s had since the garage. Peter’s starting to get attached to that look and he hopes it doesn’t go away when they’re back home.

When Harley pitches the idea of a tour around Rose Hill Peter is interested, if unsure what to expect. Abbie is  _ not _ interested and decides to sit this one out. So after they brush down Garfunkel and put away the saddle and stuff it’s only Harley and Peter that load up into the Mustang and drive into town.

The first thing Peter learns is that Rose Hill is so small if you’re not careful you’ll drive right out the other end of it without realizing you’ve arrived.

“And that’s pretty much it,” Harley says.

“Wait, what?” Peter says, staring out at the fields of short green leafy somethings laid out ahead of them. He forgets to keep his camera steady as he turns around and looks out the back window at the dozen or so shabby buildings that apparently make up the whole town.

“That was just… a bar and a diner.”

“Don’t forget the six different churches,” Harley reminds him.

“What about, I dunno, a library? Fire station? A police department? Where did you even go to school?”

Harley shrugs. “We just go to Marville for all that stuff. We don’t have a large enough population to warrant our own resources.”

“What? But it took us like 45 minutes to get to Marville. What if there’s an emergency and someone needs an ambulance or something?”

Harley shrugs again. “That’s life in the country for you. You either drive yourself, ask a neighbor to drive you, or wait. The best option though is to not need an ambulance in the first place.”

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you don’t live here anymore. No offense, but that gives me so much anxiety.”

Harley laughs and reaches across to ruffle his hair. “Oh hey. Have you ever seen a cow before?”

“Uh, not up close,” Peter tells him. “Just sometimes from the highway. Why?”

~*~

“I’m pretty sure this is trespassing,” Peter says.

“Quit bein’ such a goody-goody. I used to do this all the time.”

They’re walking through the middle of a pasture, a pasture that the Keeners don’t own, looking for cows. Or sheep. Or any other farm animal Harley feels Peter can’t go back to New York without petting.

Peter turns his camera around to point at his face and says, “I want it to go on record that this was all Harley’s idea.”

“Would you quit that. I told you it’s fine.”

Peter turns the camera to point at him. “Is this cow tipping? I don’t want to tip a cow.”

“It’s not-,” Harley stops and looks Peter in the eyes. “You know cow tipping isn’t a real thing, right?”

“Umm, what? Yes, it is. I’ve seen  _ Cars .” _

“Peter.” Harley puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders, forcing Peter to lower his camera. “Think about the physics and tell me whether or not cow tipping is a real thing.”

“I mean… I guess I don’t know enough about cows to-,”

“Your average dairy cow weighs somewhere around 1,500 pounds.”

“Oh. That’s a lot. So… they don’t tip.”

“They don’t tip.”

“But then why-,”

“It’s a hazing thing or something you talk your drunk buddy into doing so you can laugh at their stupid ass while they slip around in mud and cow shit thinking they’re being sneaky.”

“Oh.”

They find the cows munching on grass and lounging near a stream and they’re much, much bigger than Peter had been expecting, even after Harley told him how much they weigh. He’s hesitant to get too close, but with Harley’s urging, he gets close enough to give one a few pats while it pulls up a big mouthful of grass. It’s completely unaffected by Peter’s presence while he’s sweating bullets.

Shortly after, he hears the high-pitched whine of a small engine approaching from beyond a hill.

“Someone’s coming,” he tells Harley.

“Aw man. That’ll be Mr. Freerksen. Don’t let him scare you. He’s just a grumpy old man.” Harley shades his eyes with a hand and squints in the direction the sound is coming from even though Peter’s pretty sure he can’t hear it yet.

“Oh God, I’m too young to have an arrest record.”

“You’re not-,” Harley sighs and shoots Peter an exasperated look. “No one’s gonna get arrested. Worst that might happen is he calls Mama and gives her an earful about her trouble-maker of a son.”

Peter isn’t convinced.

A buggy crests the hill a short while later, a hunched old man in blue and white pin-striped overalls behind the wheel, and Peter and Harley stand and wait while he approaches.

“Harley Keener? Is that you?” the old man says, rolling to a stop a few feet away. He doesn’t get out of the buggy.

“Hey, Mr. Freerksen. Long time, no see,” Harley says, hands in his pockets.

Mr. Freerksen glances between the pair of them, brow furrowed before he smiles. It looks forced and does nothing to set Peter at ease.

“It has. How’s that fancy internship treatin’ yeh? Old Stark made yeh a bona fide employee yet?”

Harley frowns. “Not yet. He’s probably waiting for me to get through college first.”

Mr. Freerksen hums and then turns his attention to Peter. “Who’s this?”

“Peter Parker,” Peter says, waving awkwardly. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you. I intern with Harley and Mr. Stark too.”

“Huh. Thought it was more exclusive than that.”

Peter turns a startled took onto Harley before looking back at Mr. Freerksen. “Well, we’re the only two so I’d say it’s still pretty exclusive.”

“Huh,” he says again. “You showin’ the city boy the ropes then?”

Harley purses his lips and works his jaw before he says. “Yep. Can’t take him home without having stepped in a genuine cow pie.”

Reflexively, Peter checks his shoes, drawing a snort and a small smile from Harley.

“Alright well, I’ll leave you to it then. Don’t you forget your roots while you’re in that big city, ya hear? No city folk are ever gonna have your back like your hometown does.” He nods at Harley like the advice he imparted is indisputable.

“…Right,” Harley says.

Luckily, the old man just nods at them again and then drives back the way he came.

Once he’s out of sight, Peter says slowly, “He seemed… nice.” He wasn’t outright rude, but there was something uncomfortable about the entire interaction.

“Yeah,” Harley says slowly, a troubled frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Harley shakes his head. “A few years ago he tried to get my mama to ship me off to the military. More than once. Told her I was trouble and would never amount to anything and needed an institution to knock some sense into me. He used that word.  _ ‘Institution’ .” _

“Oh. Maybe… Maybe he decided to turn over a new leaf.”

Harley shakes his head. “I doubt it. Abbie still complains about him. I think… I think he’s just treating me different because of Tony and the internship. Maybe the vlog, I dunno. It’s like when a band from a small town makes it big and suddenly everyone loves them and tells them to remember where they came from even though they never supported them while they were small time. It just… I dunno. Feels gross.”

Peter hums thoughtfully. “Should we come back after it gets dark and TP his house?”

Harley laughs, seeming to shake off the strange interaction. “Naw, we got better stuff to do.”

Peter pouts, playing it up to see Harley smile again. “But I’ve always wanted to TP someone.”

Harley grins at him and takes his hand. “Maybe some other time then. Mama’s wanting us all home tonight for some family time before we have to go back tomorrow.”

~*~

They head back into town afterward and Harley takes him into the bar for a game of pool and some nachos. It’s weird to Peter that one, the bar is open in the middle of the afternoon and two, they’re allowed in with no questions asked. In New York, most bars have a strict no under 18 policy. When he mentions it to Harley though he just gives him a weird look as tells him he’s been coming to this bar since he was five and so has every other person who grew up here. Wild.

Afterward, they walk down the street a little ways to the auto shop where Harley introduces Peter to ‘Old Dan’, one of the few people in town who treated Harley well growing up, or so Peter deduces. He shakes Peter’s hand and then drags Harley off into the shop to take a look at a truck with a weird problem that’s been giving him fits. Harley promises Peter he won’t be gone long and Old Dan tells him to make himself at home in the ‘lobby’.

The cramped entryway that serves as the lobby has a small counter, behind which appears to be Old Dan’s office. There’s no computer but there are paper documents scattered about and a calculator. The only other thing in the ‘lobby’ is a single metal folding chair half blocking the door. It isn’t what Peter would consider a lobby but he does as he’s told and sits and waits. And waits.

After several minutes he gets bored and considers going into the shop to find them, but then he catches sight of the old rotary phone sitting on the counter and gets up to inspect it. He’s never seen one this ancient before and he’s itching to take it apart and see its insides.

He picks it up and a screwdriver rolls out from behind it like a message from the universe. He picks up the screwdriver and weighs the phone in his hand. Should he? Would it be bad manners? Old Dan  _ did _ tell him to make himself at home and the presence of the screwdriver tells Peter that this might be the fate that was planned for the phone anyway. Besides, he’s 100% confident he’ll be able to put it back together again, no problem.

He decides to take the chance mostly because he’s really,  _ really _ bored.

He tries to take it off the counter, but the cord catches on something on the other side and it almost yanks the phone right out of his hands.

“What…”

He unplugs the telephone line from the back of the phone and tosses it back onto the counter, but the electric plug is caught on something out of sight on the other side of the counter. Peter spends a minute wiggling and tugging at it gently until it finally comes free. Then he sits in the middle of the floor, screwdriver in hand, and gets to work.

An untold amount of time passes before Harley steps back into the room and stops dead in his tracks.

“Uh, what’re’ya doin’?” he asks.

“Oh hey. I was just checking out this really old phone. Look! There’s little bells inside for when it rings! And here’s the little hammer.”

“Peter, that’s Dan’s phone.”

“I mean, I assumed. But the screwdriver was right there! D’you think he’ll mind? I can put it back together really fast.”

“He’ll mind if he misses a call.”

Peter freezes. “Wait.” He closes his eyes. “Is this… Is this the phone for the shop?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my God,” Peter whispers, horrified as he begins to frantically piece the phone back together. “But it’s so old! Why would- I thought it was just for fun! It wasn’t even plugged…” He trails off as he realizes. “It  was plugged in. I thought the cord was just stuck but it was plugged in. Oh my God.”

“Just hurry up. What he doesn’t know won’t piss him off.”

“Oh my God. I am such an idiot.”

“This isn’t your finest moment,” Harley concedes, fighting back a smile and losing.

It only takes another minute or two for Peter to finish. He tests the dial with a finger and it glides back into place exactly as it should. Harley stares at it with a bemused expression.

“Huh,” he says. “It always used to stick a little bit. Maybe we should tell him so he can thank you.”

“No, no please don’t! Can you just… Can you plug it in for me?” Peter asks as he plugs the telephone cable into the back of the phone and sets it back on the counter with the screwdriver behind it, exactly as he remembers it from before. Now that he’s looking, he can see a dusty outline from where the phone has likely sat for years and years.

“Sure thing, Spider Baby.”

Harley ducks back into the shop and then the door on the other side of the counter opens and he steps through it and plugs in the phone, no problem. Peter picks up the receiver and sighs in relief at the sound of the dial tone before putting it back down.

“Thanks. You’re not gonna tell him, right?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to.” Harley’s smiling at him like this is the funniest shit.

“I don’t,” Peter says confidently. “Get back over here before he notices you.”

Harley rolls his eyes, but dutifully exits the tiny office and re-enters the tiny entryway.

“You ready to move on then?”

“What, that’s it?” Peter asks. “He doesn’t want to catch up?”

“Nah,” Harley says with a shrug. “Old Dan’s never been much of a talker, but he was always content to let me ramble to my heart’s content when I was younger. That’s why I spent so much time here at first.”

“Wait.  _ You _ were a chatterbox?” Peter asks as they step out of the shop and back into the street.

“Yeah,” Harley says, grinning. “Didn’t you know? I think I talked Tony into like three different anxiety attacks that day he was in Rose Hill.”

“For real?” Peter asks, feeling blown away.  _ His _ Harley? A talker? No. That’s not a real thing.

Harley shrugs and his grin fades a little bit. “Middle school was rough. High school was worse. I got in… a lot of fights thanks to my mouth. Almost got expelled a couple times. After that I just kind of… I dunno. Learned to filter.”

Peter frowns. The more he learns about Harley’s childhood, the less he likes it. “Did other kids pick fights with you a lot? Was it because you’re gay?”

Harley shoots Peter a little smile as they get to the car and he leans his butt on the hood. “First of all, I started just as many fights as I got pulled into. I wasn’t a happy kid. I was… bored. Restless. Frustrated. I wanted to get the hell out of this town and at the time it seemed like beating on those douche bags at school was better than taking all that home to ma and Abbie who I knew didn’t deserve it. And second, yeah sometimes. But,” he shrugs, “if it wasn’t for that it would’ve been for something else. I wasn’t the only bored, angry kid.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest and frowns down at his shoes. He didn’t notice until yesterday but now that he has, all he can hear in all of Harley’s stories of growing up is the distinct lack of one crucial element.

“Hey, it wasn’t all bad. I always had Mama and Abbie.”

“Is that it?” Peter looks up to see Harley’s response.

Harley blinks at him. “I mean… There’s Old Dan…”

“I mean  _ friends _ _,_ Harley. Didn’t you have any friends? You haven’t introduced me to a single person our age or even mentioned anyone,” Peter says, brow scrunched with concern. It’s been bothering him. He had his problems in school with bullies and the like, but he always at least had a friend who had his back no matter what. They’ve been driving around town in Harley’s unmistakable candy apple red vintage muscle car all afternoon and no one’s waved them down or stopped to say hi or welcome Harley back to town. Not a single person. Granted, Peter’s only seen a handful wandering the sidewalks or ducking in and out of little shops, but you’d think at least one of them would be happy to see him.

Harley softens. “Hey, c’mere,” he says and reaches out, taking Peter’s hands. Peter lets him pull him against his chest and wraps his arms around Harley’s waist while Harley holds him close. “I’m sure there were nice people at school. Smart people. Ones who would’ve made good friends. I just… I never gave anyone a chance. Ever since the Mandarin thing I only had one goal and that was to get the hell out of here and join Tony in New York and- and train to be the next Iron Man or some shit.” He laughs under his breath. “Seems stupid now, but that was the plan at the time.”

“You wanted to  _ be _ Iron Man?” Peter asks, pulling away from him far enough to see his face while keeping his hands on Harley’s hips.

Harley grins wryly. “Kinda dumb, huh? I can’t even swing on a swing set but I thought I could fly in a metal suit around New York and blow up aliens?”

Peter scoffs and then kisses him soundly on the lips. “I think you’d be a great Iron Man. We’d have to call you something else though. Your own superhero name.”

Harley rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he says, “I know it’s the boyfriend’s job to be a flatterer, but it’s really not-,”

Peter makes an offended noise. “It’s not flattery! It’s the truth!”

Harley laughs. “C’mon. We’ve got time to hit up the arcade in Marville before we need to be back for dinner if you’re down.”

“Heck yeah. I’m gonna kick your butt at Space Invaders.”

“Pfft. In your dreams.”

~*~

They spend an hour at the arcade testing their skills against the outdated systems as much as the games themselves. It’s the most fun Peter’s had the entire trip. Maybe it’s because he gets to spend it with Harley and only Harley and doesn’t have to worry about making a good impression. Or maybe it’s the dim room and the old black lights, the glowing carpet, and the equal parts trash talk and encouragement traded between them.

Hand-in-hand, they step outside to find the sun low in the sky, casting long shadows and lighting the world up orange and for a second Peter feels like he’s in a movie and the end credits are about to roll. But only for a second.

“Hey, Keener!” A voice across the street shouts out. Peter looks up and finds a boy their age, his dark hair shorn down almost to the scalp wearing camo cargo shorts and a plain white henley.

Harley stiffens but doesn’t drop Peter’s hand. “‘Sup Keaton,” he says in a bored monotone that viscously snaps Peter back to those first couple months when Harley arrived at the tower. He’d talked like that all the time. Like he was so far above you that he couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care. Like you were a waste of his time and energy.

He stares at the side of Harley’s face, but Harley doesn’t look back at him.

Keaton doesn’t even bother acknowledging Peter as he steps into the road and stops several feet away. “I seen your videos. Bet you think you’re real hot shit now, huh? Too good for us hicks.”

“Yeah that sounds about right,” Harley drawls. “Find any colleges dumb enough to let you in yet? Or did you give up and enlist?”

Keaton flushes bright red and looks furious.

“Harley,” Peter says in a low tone. He doesn’t like seeing him like this, he decides. He doesn’t like it at all. “Let’s just go.”

“Yeah, Keener,” Keaton spits. “Listen to your fuck buddy and just go. Don’t bother coming back.”

“Don’t call him that,” Harley says in a low tone.

Keaton smiles. “Why not? Oh, d’you have to share him? I bet you take turns interning  _ under _ Stark if you get my meaning. Is he as good as his playboy days make him out to be?”

Harley takes a step forward, but Peter puts a hand to his chest and pushes him back towards the car. He maybe uses a little too much force because Harley stumbles, but luckily it seems to snap him out of whatever was going on in his head.

He looks at Peter and Peter holds his gaze and says, “I wanna leave. Right now.”

Harley shakes his head like he’s clearing it. “Alright.”

Peter waits for Harley to start walking towards the driver door before he heads to the passenger side and gets in, pulling the door shut on whatever inane thing Keaton begins shouting at them. Harley pulls his door shut too and Peter lets out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s get out of here,” Peter says when Harley is slow to dig the keys out of his pocket.

“Yeah, okay,” he says quietly.

He starts the car and they pull away from the curb. Peter doesn’t look back, but Harley glances in the rearview mirror and clenches his jaw. They drive in silence the entire way back to Rose Hill and Peter wants to scream. Why did Harley act that way? Is that how he acted before? Peter thinks it is and that makes him feel sick. It reminds him of how closed off and dismissive Harley was when he first came to New York.

It reminds him of why he didn’t like him.

They roll to a stop in the circle of dirt that functions as the driveway for the Keener household and Harley shuts off the car but neither of them move or speak. There’s a riot of emotions in Peter’s chest and a flurry of words dying to spit from between his lips, but he holds them back. He doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to make things bad between him and Harley, but God does he want to let Harley know what he thinks of what just happened.

“What was that?” Peter finally asks. It’s a fight to keep his tone bland and inoffensive.

Harley doesn’t respond.

“Harley,” Peter says sharply.

“Did what he said bother you?” Harley finally asks, ignoring Peter’s question entirely. It snaps what little restraint Peter’s managed to scrounge up.

“What  _ he _ said?” he echoes, incredulous. “I don’t give a- Harley, it was  _ you _ that bothered me. You were… You were cold and- and  _ mean.” _

Harley turns to look at him and his gaze is flat and nearly emotionless. Peter hates it. He  _ hates _ it.

“He used to beat up freshman for fun, Peter. It’s not like he doesn’t have any skin in the game.”

“I don’t fucking care. You’re better than that! I know you are.”

“Am I?” Harley holds Peter’s gaze and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Peter says, without an ounce of doubt. The Harley that he’s gotten to know over the past few months is leagues better than the version of Harley he watched body snatch his boyfriend outside of the arcade today. And he knows which one is the real Harley and which one is a shield… and a weapon.

Harley looks down and away and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. Peter reaches out and runs his fingers over the back of his forearm and then curls them under his wrist and keeps moving them forward until Harley releases the wheel and lets Peter intertwine their fingers. He leans closer and brings their hands up to his lips and kisses Harley’s knuckles.

“I won’t pretend to know who you were before you came to New York, but I know who you are now and that… that wasn’t you. That was an old version of you that’s been upgraded and replaced and is now obsolete, unnecessary, and unwanted. I  _ know  _ you , Harley Keener and you’re better than Keaton and you’re better than who you used to be.”

Harley swallows thickly and then looks up at Peter. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know…” He looks away frowns down at their hands in his lap. “It was like a reflex. I didn’t even think about it. I just fell right back into how I was back then. Like, I heard his voice and the past six months just vanished out from under me.”

Peter doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say.  _ ‘That sucks _ _,’_ doesn’t seem right.

Harley sighs. “I really am sorry.”

“For what?” Peter asks. “I don’t know… Are you sorry that I was there or-,”

“All of it,” Harley says. “I’m sorry I did it. I’m sorry you saw it. I just… I wish it didn’t happen.”

Relief washes over him. This, he can work with.

“That was really shitty what you said about him enlisting,” Peter says.

Harley groans and puts his forehead down on the steering wheel. He tries to let go of Peter’s hand, but Peter holds tight.

“You don’t even know,” Harley says. “It was such a low blow. Literally, the cruelest thing I could have said.”

“Oh God, did somebody die?” Peter asks quietly.

“No, no. Not that bad. At least… not that I know of,” Harley admits with a grimace and then sits up and looks at Peter with so much shame. “His sister’s been deployed out in the middle east for almost a year now. It’s been pretty hard on his family having her gone and they were like… best friends. Close like me and Abbie.”

“Wow,” Peter says.

“I know,” Harley says quietly. “I’m such an asshole.”

An idea strikes Peter and he blurts, “You should apologize.”

“What?” Harley stares at him, but the more Peter thinks about it, the better the idea seems.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like, I’m not gonna try to make you or anything. It should be your choice. But I think we should drop something off for him and his family tomorrow before we head home.”

Harley keeps staring. “Peter, we’ve got…  _ years _ of bad blood between us. There’s no way he’s gonna accept an apology from me.”

“That’s his choice.”

“He’ll laugh me off his property.”

“So? That’s a reflection of his character, not yours.”

“He’s never gonna… What if he just slams the door in my face?”

Peter shrugs. “Just… pass him the ball and he can decide whether to pass it back or let it pass him by.”

Harley crinkles his nose and a reluctant grin curls his lips. “Are we doing sports metaphors now? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Shut up.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Think about it though. I think it’s a good idea.”

Harley shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

~*~

They try to salvage the evening, but Harley is distant in a way that makes Peter antsy. He doesn’t like that he has to call his name more than once to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he keeps zoning out mid-conversation all through dinner. It’s not like yesterday where he seemed happy but absent-minded. Today he’s introspective and melancholy. Even Ms. Keener and Abbie have noticed if their shared glances mean anything.

After they finish loading the dinner dishes into the dishwasher, he finally manages to get some time alone with him. Harley’s on the couch, one knee pulled up to his chest, staring off into space while Peter plays with Bumpurr on the floor. Ms. Keener is doing some laundry and Abbie is upstairs in her room.

“Hey, where are you at?” Peter asks.

“Hmm? Nowhere. I’m here.” Harley doesn’t look at him, still staring at the wall. Needless to say, Peter’s not convinced.

“Hey,” he puts his hand on Harley’s knee until he looks at him. “Don’t… Don’t disappear on me. This town… You’re so much bigger than this place.”

Harley hums thoughtfully, but Peter can tell he still isn’t really listening.

“What’s going on in there? Talk to me.”

Harley shrugs. “I’m just thinkin’.”

“About what?” Peter presses.

Harley purses his lips then opens his mouth only to close it and shake his head. “Just stuff.”

“Harley,” Peter says, insistent now. “Same page, remember? If you don’t want to talk right now, fine. But I’d rather you tell me about it than lock yourself away in your head thinking shitty thoughts about what happened earlier. Okay?”

Harley takes so long to respond that Peter thinks maybe he isn’t going to.

“I just…” Harley trails off. “I let him get to me. He doesn’t usually… It’s been a long time since he got me that mad.”

“Why?” Peter asks. “You know what he said isn’t true.”

“I don’t know,” Harley says. “We get those kinds of YouTube comments all the time and I just delete and block them and move on but… It’s different coming from someone who knows me.”

“You think he knows you?” Peter asks incredulously, maybe a little too loud.

Harley finally turns and looks at him, blinking owlishly. “Well… Yeah. We grew up together.”

“That doesn’t mean he  _ knows _ you. Maybe he knows your history and your family. Or he knows about that embarrassing haircut you had in 7th grade. But he sure as fuck doesn’t know  _ you _ _.”_ Peter counts on his fingers. “Your mom knows you. Abbie knows you. Tony, Pepper, Aunt May, Ned, MJ, me. Even that Old Dan guy! We all know you and we know how incredible you are. We’ve seen what’s in here,” he gets up onto his knees and taps the side of Harley’s head, “and what’s in here,” he presses a finger to Harley’s chest, “and we’re in it for the long haul because we like what we see.”

Harley’s quiet for a minute. “My dad knew me.”

“Did he?” Peter asks, maybe a little harshly. “Obviously I don’t know him, but I can’t imagine that he could see what I see and walk away.”

Harley forces a half-smile. “Maybe he won. Last time I saw him he was headed to the gas station for scratch-offs and he never came back.” Harley shrugs. “Maybe he won.”

Peter snorts. “He didn’t.”

“I mean it’s not likely, but it’s possi-,”

“No, it’s not,” Peter cuts him off, jaw set stubbornly. “Having a life without you in it is a no-win scenario. I don’t care how much money he walked away with. He didn’t win.”

Harley stares at him, expression unreadable until Peter leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead and then gets to his feet.

“I’m gonna change into my pajamas and then we’re gonna play Clue with Abbie and your mom if she wants.”

“Okay,” Harley says.

“And you’re not gonna hide away in your head again. I want you here. With me. Us.”

“Okay.”

“And when we’re done with Clue, we’re all going to sit around and watch…”

“ That 70’s Show ,” Harley says quietly. “We always watch together.”

Peter nods, then points a stern finger at Harley. “And you’re gonna laugh at all the weed jokes or I’ll tickle you until you cry or pee your pants, whichever comes first.”

“I…” Harley shakes his head and a small but genuine smile curls his lips. “Okay.”

“You’re an idiot for agreeing to those terms, but no take backsies!” He steps forward and cups Harley’s face in his hands as he presses forceful kiss to his lips. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Harley says softly, leaning into Peter’s touch.

Peter strokes his thumbs along his cheekbones before finally letting his hands fall away. He steps back and then heads for the stairs. He jogs up them and as he opens the door to Harley’s room he hears Ms. Keener’s voice downstairs say, “He’s good for you.”

Peter freezes with one foot in the room.

“How much of that did you hear?” Harley asks. Peter can hear his embarrassment from here.

“All of it. He’s right, you know. You’ve always been so much bigger than this little town.” She hesitates. “And he’s right about your daddy too.”

“Ma,” Harley protests, a slight whine in his tone. “I don’t wanna talk about him.”

“Me neither, but some things need said and you need to know, whether _he_ knows it or not, his life is worse off without you and your sister in it and that’s a fact. His loss is my gain though. I got both of you all to myself and didn’t have to put up with his entitled ass.”

“How come he left?” Harley asks quietly.

“Because he’s a fool who doesn’t know a good thing when it’s starin’ him in the face and callin’ him daddy.”

Harley sighs. “Are you ever gonna give me a straight answer?”

“That is the straight answer. Now about whatever happened in town today-,”

“Mama, please I just-,”

“I’ll let it go,” she says, “but only cuz I think he got through to you. I’ll let Abbie know we’re playin’ Clue.”

Harley scoffs. “She hates Clue.”

“Only cuz you always win. Maybe Peter’ll give you a run for your money and she’ll find a way to enjoy that at least. Why don’t you go change into your PJs too and we’ll all make a cozy night of it.”

“Peter said not to-,”

“Well, you tell Peter your mama said to go get changed. Now scoot.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Peter steps the rest of the way into the room, but leaves the door open behind him and grabs his Hello Kitty pants off the floor. Harley steps into the room a few seconds later and shuts the door behind him with a sigh.

“How much of that did you hear?”

He turns around, PJs in hand and says, “All of it.”

Harley shakes his head. “Walls in this house are too damn thin.”

Peter snorts and turns away, looking for his slippers. “Walls don’t have anything to do with it. Not in my case at least.”

“Damn super hearing,” Harley mutters under his breath.

“Heard that.”

Peter’s spidey sense flares and he turns around just in time to catch the pen Harley throws at the back of his head. He twirls it between his fingers with a grin.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” Harley says.

“Love you too,” Peter quips back and then freezes. He and Harley stare at each other, hearts pounding until Peter laughs breathlessly. “Wow. Awkward. Umm...”

Harley shakes his head. “I know what you meant.”

“Right. Yeah. I umm… I’m gonna take my pants off now.”

Harley laughs and the discomfort dissipates. “You do you, but first…” He steps into Peter’s space and kisses him soft and gentle. “Thanks,” he says, “for talkin’ sense to me.”

“‘Course,” Peter says. “Anytime.”

~*~

The next morning they eat a final breakfast together and then Ms. Keener relinquishes her kitchen to Peter and Harley so they can bake cookies. Abbie sits on the counter to “supervise”, meaning, she tells them when they’re about to fuck up. Between her guidance, Harley’s ability to stay focused on a task for more than five minutes, and Peter’s chemistry experience, they make some alright cookies.

Later, after the cookies have cooled, their bags have been packed, and the car is idling in the driveway with Bumpurr wrestling a tiny stuffed mouse in the backseat, they all hug goodbye in the driveway. Ms. Keener holds Peter real tight and then surprises him with a kiss on his hair.

“You’re welcome back here anytime. Alright, hun?”

“Thanks Ms. Keener. For everything.”

Then Peter and Harley switch places and he hugs Abbie while Harley hugs his mom.

“Stay safe out there, Spidey,” Abbie says softly in his ear.

Peter jerks back and stares at her, wide-eyed. “W-What?”

She shoots him a stern look and then glances at her mom who is still wrapped up with telling Harley to stay out of trouble before she leans forward and whispers, “You and my big dumb brother talk loud.”

“You can’t tell anyone.” His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest as all of his loved ones who could be hurt if someone dangerous finds out flash across his mind.

Abbie makes a face at him. “I’m not  _ dumb _ _._ I didn’t even tell Mama. She don’t need the extra stress. Just… keep my brother safe, would you? No more getting kidnapped.”

“Of course,” Peter says, still reeling. “I’d never let anything happen to him.”

Abbie throws her arms around his neck and he wraps his around her back and hugs her close.

“Thanks,” she says. Then she steps out of the hug and says at normal volume. “Make sure you two don’t stay away too long. We want you back for at least one of the winter holidays.”

“We’ll make the trip for one or the other,” Harley says, hands in his pockets and completely oblivious to Abbie’s big reveal. “Depends on how classes go.”

They pack themselves into the car and Peter waves as they pull away. He waits until they’re out of sight of the Keener household before he clears his throat. He keeps a careful grip on the Tupperware of cookies in his lap to ground himself and says, “So uh… Abbie figured out I’m Spider-Man.”

_ “What?” _ Harley brakes a little too hard at a stop sign and Peter jerks forward against his seat belt. “How?”

“Umm… I’m not totally sure? She said we talk loud, but I don’t remember talking about me being Spider-Man, d’you?”

Harley is quiet for a solid minute as he frowns out the windshield. Finally, he slaps the steering wheel and turns to Peter and says, “The chicken coop! She was right outside and we like, yelled at each other about you being Spider-Man.”

“Oh man, you’re right!” Peter could smack himself. What a dumb way to reveal his secret identity. “We’re so lucky your mom wasn’t the one that heard us.”

“She’d have been cool with it,” Harley says, but the look on his face doesn’t inspire a whole lot of conviction. They’re quiet for a minute and then Harley smiles and turns to look at Peter. “I’m kinda glad she knows. It’ll be nice to have someone to bitch to when you pull dumb stunts.”

Peter rolls his eyes and can’t help the small smile that tugs his lips in response to Harley’s. “Yeah, yeah. You two can gossip about me like old biddies at the hair salon.”

A short time later, they pull to a stop in front of a small, somewhat shabby one-story home with a well-maintained fenced-in front lawn. There’s a dog in the yard.

“Oh man, d’you think he’ll let me pet his dog?” Peter asks, gazing longingly after the dog. When Harley doesn’t answer he turns to look at him and finds him leveling a flat, unimpressed expression at him. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right. We should wait to ask until after he accepts the cookies.”

“He’s probably gonna throw ‘em straight in the trash,” Harley mumbles.

Peter shrugs. “At least it was fun making them.”

They lapse into quiet, only the sound of the running engine breaking the silence.

“You uh, you gonna go knock?” Peter asks.

Harley sighs. “You gonna wait in the car?”

Peter glances at the dog resting peacefully in the shade of a large tree. “I guess.”

Harley takes the cookies and leaves the car running. Peter watches from the passenger seat as Harley trudges up to the door and pushes the doorbell. The door opens and when Keaton sees Harley on the front stoop he sneers.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Keener? Came to kick my ass?”

Despite the distance and being enclosed inside the car, Peter can hear him clear as day.

“Look,” Harley says. “I know we’ve done and said some fucked up shit to each other over the years, but… I’m over it. So, umm… I’m sorry. And I- Fuck this is dumb, but I made you some cookies. Peter helped. They’re not bad.”

Keaton stares at him for a drawn-out moment, glances down at the cookies, and then squints suspiciously at Harley. “Is this some kind of prank? If it is, it’s a dumb one.”

“It’s not a prank,” Harley says, sounding tired. “I just… What’s the point of hating each other anymore? D’you want the cookies or not?”

Slowly, Keaton takes the offered Tupperware and cracks open a corner and sniffs. Then he pulls the lid the rest of the way off and takes out a cookie to inspect.

“I swear they’re not poisoned,” Harley says dryly.

Keaton takes a small bite and chews. He shrugs. “Not bad.” He takes another much larger bite and then asks with his mouth full, “Your boy make you do this?”

“It was his idea but he didn’t  _ make _ me.”

“Huh. That him hiding in the car?”

Peter figures that’s as good of an opening as he’s going to get and opens the door. Harley must hear it because he whirls around and shoots him an exasperated look.

“Peter-,”

Peter speaks over him. “Hey, I’m Peter. Can I pet your dog?”

Keaton blinks at him, thrown. “I- Yeah, whatever I guess.”

Peter beams at him and then easily levers himself over the fence one-handed and crosses the yard and crouches down several feet away from the dog. Now that he’s closer he can see it’s a blue Staffordshire bull terrier.

“Hi, puppy! Who’s a good pupperoo?” He clicks his tongue a few times and the dog lifts its head and wags its tail. “It’s you! You’re the good pupperoo!” The dog jumps up and scurries over to him, now wagging its tail frantically. He laughs and sits down on his butt in the grass to really go to town on petting the dog. “Oh them’s some good scritches. Yes, yes you’re a good puppy. Yes, you are!”

Peter is far enough away that there’s no reason for Keaton to suspect he can hear them, but of course, Peter can.

“Your boyfriend’s a weirdo,” Keaton says, but not in a harsh way. More like he’s trying to puzzle something out.

Harley must hear it in his tone too because he doesn’t sound defensive when he says, “Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

A few beats of silence pass during which Peter finds a mucky old tennis ball and throws it for the dog.

“You’re different now,” Keaton says. “Almost didn’t recognize you in that first video you put up. Thought it must’ve been a different Harley Keener.”

“I’m trying to be,” Harley says slowly like he’s choosing his words carefully. “Sorry I was such a shithead growing up.”

“I gave as good as I got,” Keaton responds with a note of pride.

“Did you really enlist?”

“…Yeah. It was either that or keep on with my shitty job at Price Chopper and the army pays better, so.” He shrugs.

Peter throws the ball for the dog three more times before Harley asks, “Stacey holding up okay out there?”

“I guess. She seems… different now but she gets to come home in a few weeks.”

“That’s good.” Harley clears his throat. “Well, uh, we better hit the road.”

“Long way back to New York.”

“Not too long. If you uh, if you guys need anything-,”

“Listen,” Keaton says, some of the edge returning to his tone, “I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do here, but I’m not gonna be callin’ you up and askin’ for favors. I don’t care that you’re backed by a billionaire now. We’ve been doin’ fine on our own and we’ll keep doin’ fine.”

Peter waits tensely for Harley’s response, worried it’s going to devolve into a fight, but Harley shrugs.

“That’s fair.” He hesitates. “But if anything changes, the offer stands.”

“Why?” Keaton bites out. “Why do you suddenly care? You never gave a shit about us before. You never gave a shit about  _ any of us _ back when you actually lived here.”

“I uh…” Harley clears his throat. “Sounds dumb but I met someone who sees the good in everybody and believes in second chances… Guess he’s rubbing off on me.”

“Bet that’s not the only thing he’s rubbing o-,”

“Don’t,” Harley says sharply. “Just don’t.”

Keaton’s quiet a minute and Peter holds his breath.

“Whatever,” he finally says with a shrug. “He’s got you all wrapped around his finger, don’t he?”

“It ain’t so bad.”

“Didn’t take you for the type.”

Harley snorts. “Me neither.”

“Huh.”

Peter decides they should quit while the going’s good and gives the dog one final scratch behind the ears before throwing the ball maybe a little farther than he should be able to. The dog hurtles after the ball and he hops the fence back over to the sidewalk where Harley and Keaton are standing, watching him.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

“Uh, it was nice to meet you,” Peter tells Keaton with an awkward wave. He doesn’t seem to know what to make of Peter and just regards him silently for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” he eventually says. “You’ve got a killer arm.”

Peter winces and Harley coughs, covering a laugh.

“Uh, thanks.”

“I’ll uh, see you around maybe,” Harley says to Keaton.

“Probably not,” Keaton says and sticks out a hand for Harley to shake. He does. “Try not to let the fame go to your head.”

Harley smirks. “No promises. Try not to get shot.”

“Harley!” Peter says, but Keaton laughs.

“Betcha I’ll be the top of my unit.”

“Only cuz I’m not there to kick your ass.”

Keaton hesitates. “Is it… They’ve got me shipping out to Fort Knox for basic. Is city life pretty different?”

“It’s like another planet,” Harley says with feeling. “Buy some earplugs you can sleep in and don’t expect any kind of small talk, like at all. Ever.”

“Earplugs?” Keaton asks.

“There’s  _ noise _ all the time. Cars, people, jets. I swear I didn’t sleep the first two months I was there.”

“I didn’t know that,” Peter says.

Harley rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we were talkin’ to each other at the time.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Earplugs and don’t talk to people,” Keaton repeats. “Got it. That it?”

“Give yourself plenty of time to get places, even if it’s only a few blocks. In New York at least there’s always a million people clogging the street and sidewalk and it makes everything take twice as long. Don’t wave at people either. They just look at you like you’re a murderer or something.”

“…Alright.”

“Also,” Harley says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “City folk don’t know a goddamn thing about country life so you can make up pretty much anything and they’ll believe you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Peter says and Harley laughs. “What lies have you told me?!”

“You’ll never know.”

“Wait!” Peter points a finger at Keaton. “Is cow tipping a real thing?” he demands.

Keaton glances at Harley and then looks back at Peter and with a completely straight face he says, “Yeah.”

Peter looks between the two, not sure who to believe. “Fuck it. I’m Googling it.” He whips out his phone and pulls up Google, but the loading circle spins and spins and then Peter realizes he doesn’t have any bars. “Oh come  _ on _ _.”_ He holds his phone up to the sky even though he knows it won’t make a difference.

Harley laughs and ruffles his hair. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

“I hate you. You owe me ice cream to make up for my suffering.”

“I know a place a couple hours out that we can stop at.”

Peter groans. “Is there anywhere closer?”

Harley shoots him an incredulous stare. “How are you hungry already? We just ate.”

“Yeah, but then I had to smell the cookies the whole way here and now I really want ice cream.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

Harley shakes his head. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You two are even more sickening in person than you are in your videos,” Keaton says, but he doesn’t look annoyed. “Thanks for the tips.”

“Sure. Stay safe out there.”

“Yeah same to you.”

~*~

After they’ve put a few miles between them and Rose Hill Peter says, “That seemed like it went well.”

“Yeah,” Harley says, sounding surprised. “It wasn’t bad. I uh, thanks. I’m glad I listened to you.”

Peter smirks. “Let this be a lesson tha-,”

“No,” Harley interrupts him. “No, no. We’re not going to pretend you always have good ideas. Don’t forget, I’ve seen you jerry-rig a homemade electromagnet and nearly-,”

“Okay, okay! You’ve made your point! We don’t need to revisit that particular mistake.”

Harley laughs and takes Peter’s hand in his and kisses the knuckle of his thumb.

After a few minutes Peter asks, “Besides ice cream, d’you have any ideas for where you want to stop on the way home?”

Harley shrugs and looks at Peter out of the corner of his eye. “I was kinda thinking about driving straight through actually. I’m ready to be home.”

“Really?” Peter asks, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Harley smiles. “Yeah. I miss it.”

“Oh thank God. I wasn’t sure if I could take another two days in the car.”

Harley laughs and they hold hands all the way to the ice cream shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all she wrote. Just kidding she wrote three more chapters. BUt that’s it for Rose Hill. Idk about you guys but I miss New York.
> 
> I hope you appreciate the little Tessa cameo lol I couldn't resist. As soon as I decided there would be a dog I knew there was only one dog it could be.
> 
> I hope you're all staying healthy and safe and finding little bits of joy to buoy you through the storm. Thank you thank you thank you as always for the comments and kudos! You guys are my joy. See you next week!


	17. Tony Stark’s Beginners Guide to Being an Alright Mentor for your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderling

~ **Harley** ~

“This is boring,” Harley says for what feels like the millionth time.

“Shut up. I’m almost done,” Peter mumbles, distracted as he squints bleary eyes at his laptop.

They’ve been editing their road trip video for the past two and a half hours. Well, Peter’s been editing it while Harley’s been making sure no references of the spider variety sneak their way into the final product. Technically, his part to play ended a long time ago, but Peter promised that getting it all edited together wouldn’t take long and then they could post it and get some sleep without it hanging over their heads.

All Harley wants is a nap. He _deserves_ a nap.

He drove for six hours yesterday before Peter insisted that they stop and take a break. He’d wanted to argue at first but then he realized that Peter was going a little crazy being stuck in the car for so long, so he pulled off in the first town they came to and found a park with a good walking trail. They walked for a long time, sometimes holding hands, sometimes racing each other, sometimes Peter skipping ahead and wandering into the trees, leaving Harley to track him down only to find him poking around at bugs or admiring a large rock.

Their break turned into an overnight stay. Once they were free from the car, neither of them could bring themselves to get back in it. So this morning, they completed the final five hours of their drive and went straight to the lab to get their video cobbled together in order to post on time.

For Harley, five hours isn’t normally that long of a drive but the past five days of nonstop activity have apparently caught up to him because he’s finding it hard to stay awake.

“Done!”

Harley lifts his head and forces his eyes to focus on Peter’s exhausted face. “Done?” he echoes. “Did you post it?”

“Not yet. I figured you’d want to watch it first. Y’know… See the final product.”

“Yeah sure.” He props his chin on his fist and wills his eyelids to stay open.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you project visual of my laptop?”

“Of course, Peter,” she says as a large holographic projection appears a few feet in front of them.

“Thanks, Fri.” Peter turns to Harley. “Are you ready?”

“Aye, aye Captain,” Harley mumbles.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” Peter sings and then hits play.

The video is only about ten minutes long and when it ends Harley says, “It’s good. I like it. Post that motherfucker and then you owe me a nap.”

Peter waves away the hologram and hits a few keys on his laptop. “It’s uploading. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Seems like you boys had fun on your trip,” Tony’s voice says from behind them. They startle and whip around to face him as he continues, “How long ago did you get in? Would’ve been nice to know you were back.”

“Oh hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter says. “Umm sorry?” He glances at Harley but he’s avoiding Tony’s gaze. They still haven’t really made up since the whole fire thing and he doesn’t even know how to try again after failing to patch things the first time around. “We just… I didn’t even think about…”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Harley can feel Tony’s gaze boring into the side of his face. “Can we talk?”

Harley glances at him and sure enough, he’s looking right at him. He shrugs and looks away. He’s pretty sure Tony wants to rehash their previous argument and get things back to normal and he wants that too but fuck, can he get some sleep first? Apparently not.

“I’ll uh… wait upstairs then?” Peter says, shifting on his feet awkwardly.

“We won’t be long,” Tony says at the same time Harley says, “You don’t have to wait up.”

Peter squints between them at the mixed messages and then says, “I’ll be upstairs.”

He kisses Harley’s cheek without a second thought to Tony’s presence and collects his laptop before heading for the door. Tony ruffles his hair as he passes him. The doors open for him, but he turns around and behind Tony’s back he mouths, _‘Work it out’ ._

Harley rolls his eyes and Peter must take that as a promise to comply because he leaves the room and heads for the elevator. The doors slide shut and silence falls around them. It’s not awkward yet because they both know without either of them having to say it that they’re waiting for Peter to be out of earshot.

Tony hops up onto the workbench behind Harley and Harley resists the urge to roll his eyes again. Him and Peter are so alike if he didn’t know better he’d think they were father and son. He turns on his stool to face him and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Congrats, by the way,” Tony says, jerking his head towards the door where Peter left. “It’s about damn time the two of you made it official.” Tony must pick up on Harley’s hesitance to confirm Tony’s implication. “Pepper told me.”

“Did… Peter tell her?” He never planned on keeping their relationship a secret so he doesn’t mind that Pepper and Tony already know, but he hadn’t expected for them to figure it out before they’d even made it home.

“Days ago,” Tony says, smirking. “Apparently they had some kind of agreement that he’d tell her as soon as you two got together.”

A warm feeling spreads through Harley’s chest. “Oh,” he says. There’s something about, 1) Pepper rooting for them and 2) Peter having talked to Pepper about them that makes him feel… really good. Like they were inevitable. Like Peter wanted this bad enough to get some ‘mom’ advice. Pepper may not be their mom or a mom at all for that matter, but she’s the one adult woman who knows both of them pretty well and that gives her an insight that no one else has. It gives her vote a little more weight than most.

Tony sniffs and scratches his chin. “So listen,” he begins. His facial hair under his fingernail makes a raspy noise in the quiet of the lab. “I’ve been doing some thinking and I’ve decided that between the two of us, we make a pretty good team.”

“What are you talking about?” Harley asks, trying and failing to keep the exhaustion from his tone.

“The whole… thing. You know.” _‘What we argued about’_ goes unspoken but is heavily implied. “I’ll be the protector and you be the… the teacher and we’ll cover both sides of the coin.”

Harley digs the knuckle of his thumb into his forehead. God, what he would give for some fucking sleep.

“Tony I’m not… I can’t teach him stuff that I don’t even know. You’re the hero. Not me.”

Tony scoffs. “I think that’s debatable.”

Harley makes an incredulous face. “It’s not though. How many times have you saved the world now? Anybody who thinks you’re not a hero is an idiot.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Tony waves his hand dismissively and drops the topic altogether, leaving Harley confused on what exactly he _does_ mean. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re already doing the whole mentoring thing even though you don’t have the experience to back it up and I’m already doing the protection thing.”

Harley presses his lips together and tries to quell the wave of irritation and impatience that crests over him. What they’re already doing isn’t working. That’s the _problem_ _._ They need to do something different.

“Listen,” he says. He takes a breath before saying, “I get that mentoring is hard. No one expects it to go without a hitch, but you’re his mentor, whether you want to be or not. Not me. It’s gotta be you that starts teaching him stuff.”

“I’ve been teaching him stuff,” Tony argues. “What do you think all that lab time is for?”

“That’s Tony Stark stuff, not Iron Man stuff. You gotta… It’s gotta be both.”

Tony’s silent for several seconds as he frowns at the wall. “When did you get so worldly and wise?” he finally asks.

Harley smirks. “I’ve always been this wise. That’s why you asked for my help in Tennessee.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, I went looking for you specifically. It wasn’t some terrible and unknowable cosmic joke that would haunt me for years to come.” Tony takes a breath. “Okay, I’m gonna level with you. I don’t know how to mentor Spider-Man. I think I do alright with Peter Parker, but what great wisdom am I supposed to be able to impart upon a little spiderling with enhanced strength, enhanced reflexes, sticky fingers, crazy fast healing, and a built-in early-warning system? I don’t… I’m just a man in a can.”

The mask slips and Harley gets a peek at the very real insecurity crouched behind it. Outside of the anxiety attacks, this has only happened around Harley a handful of times over the past decade. Usually Tony is so careful to keep up the front that he’s in control and knows exactly what’s best. It’s not the same front that he uses with the public or even with the Avengers. It’s more like the front his mom uses to pretend she’s got everything on lock even when she’s pulling double shifts at the diner and still has to put back the knock-off Lucky Charms because their card got declined at the check out counter.

It’s parental. No parent wants their kid to know they’re flying through this world by the seat of their pants and that they don’t know what the right thing to do is.

Harley frowns at Tony for a long minute. How’s he supposed to know what Tony should be teaching Spider-Man? Of the three of them, he knows the _least_ about what it takes to be a superhero. Still… Over the past few months, he’s learned some good general rules for not fucking up with the Spider-Man aspect of Peter Parker. Maybe he can give Tony a place to start.

He yanks open a drawer and digs out a ratty notebook and a Sharpie while Tony watches him with a frown. Supplies in hand, he pulls his stool over to the workbench and puts the notebook next to Tony’s hip. He wracks his poor sleepy brain for ideas, the tip of the Sharpie leaving a black blotch at the top of the page where it rests. After several seconds of pondering he writes, _‘_ _Tony Stark’s Beginners Guide to Being an Alright Mentor for your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderling ’._

Tony cranes his neck and reads over his shoulder. “What’s this?” he asks after enough time has passed to read the title several times over. “A little wordy for a title, don’t you think?”

“Shut up. You can change it to fit into an acronym later. Besides, this is just a starting point to get you off the ground,” Harley says and writes ‘#1’ on the first line. “First things, first,” he says and then writes as he says aloud, “Pretend you’re not freaked out.”

Tony turns so he’s cross-legged on top of the workbench, facing Harley’s notebook. “Always important. Peter hates being coddled.”

Harley shrugs. “He does. He’ll clam up and hide stuff from you if he thinks you’re going to overreact.”

“I wouldn’t call it overreacting,” Tony mumbles under his breath.

“Peter would though,” Harley says pointedly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s got a thing about protecting people, even if the only thing he’s protecting them from is worrying about him.”

“That just makes me worry more though,” Tony complains.

Harley smiles. That, at least, is one thing he and Tony can agree on. He writes a ‘#2’ on the page and thinks for a minute before he writes, _‘_ _Remember, he knows his abilities best. Trust him when he says he can handle it. ’_

Tony frowns and makes a sound of dissatisfaction in his throat. “He _always_ thinks he can handle it though. Kid’s got no self-preservation.”

“I think that’s when your knowledge on how things can go sideways comes in and it’s wisdom imparting time,” Harley says.

Tony shoots him a flat look. “I don’t know what the fuck that means.”

“Like, just talk to him and explain the ways things can get hairy.”

“That’s not… That’s a nice idea but in reality, things move way too fast for us to have time to sit down and talk it out. And I can’t always be there hovering over his shoulder like some guardian angel of superheroly wisdom.”

Harley takes a moment to enjoy the visual of a tiny Iron Man hovering over Peter’s shoulder telling him to be safe while an also tiny Spider-Man is perched on the other telling him to do a flip off a building because it’ll look cool.

He tucks the image away to laugh at later and says, “So run drills and simulations and stuff. Try to give him experience in a controlled environment so when he’s out there dealing with the real thing he’ll have something to fall back on.”

Tony frowns at the list. “I see the logic there, but what does that have to do with him lying to me and saying he’s fine or that he can do something when he can’t?”

“I think if you and him are working together on stuff and he has the chance to show you what he can do then he won’t feel like he needs to be perfect all the time. Like… Right now it’s like he can’t admit that he’s in over his head because if he does you’ll pull the plug or give him more restrictions.”

“What? No I wouldn’t.”

Harley shoots him a look. “His experience says you would.”

Tony frowns and doesn’t respond so Harley moves on to item number three: _‘Feed the beast.’_

“What on Earth does that mean?” Tony asks, exasperated. “I don’t know about this list. None of this seems related to Peter jumping into a burning building.”

“It is. Trust me,” Harley says with confidence. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he knows he’s right. “You know how crazy his metabolism is.”

Tony nods. “But what does that have to do with mentoring?” he asks, frustration coloring his tone. “This isn’t even related. He can feed himself. He’s not an infant.”

“It _is_ related,” Harley insists. “Peter makes his best decisions when he’s well-fed and well-rested. He told me once that if he doesn’t feed the beast, meaning his metabolism, then it’ll eat him alive. After that, I kinda started paying attention and noticed that when he hasn’t eaten he gets too… I dunno, introspective? Like he gets lost in his own head and gets kinda depressed. When he’s like that he’s more likely to be self-sacrificing instead of figuring out a solution that doesn’t involve him getting hurt. A fed Peter is a happy Peter and a happy Peter doesn’t make stupid choices… as often.”

Tony snorts. “Alright. Is that all? Pretend everything’s fine, trust him, and feed him? Then he’ll stop trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Two more, I think,” Harley says and scribbles down numbers four and five.

_#4: Challenge him, but don’t doubt him._

_#5: Be there for him, but don’t smother him._

“For number four, give him opportunities to test his limits,” Harley explains without prompting. “Both of you should know what he’s capable of and what he’s not. But don’t go into it telling him you don’t think he can do it because then chances are he’s going to push himself too hard and if he can’t do it then he’s going to feel like he failed. It should be more like scientific testing than anything else.

“And number five,” Harley continues when Tony nods. “It’s easier said than done and kind of ties into number two. Just… let him know you’re always available to help and don’t be judgmental about it when he does need help. And if he says he doesn’t and that he can handle it, you gotta trust that and back off otherwise he won’t ever come to you on his own.”

Tony picks up the list and frowns at it while Harley caps the Sharpie and begins to tap it impatiently against the table.

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Tony eventually says.

Harley shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

Tony regards him. “Do you remember after you first found out about Peter being Spider-Man? You told me were going to get him to trust you enough that he’d come to you for help when he needed it.”

“Vaguely,” Harley says. He mostly remembers being annoyed that Tony thought he was going to join the crowd of people trying to hold Peter back. He remembers those first couple weeks of carefully navigating between letting Peter know he wanted to help and not forcing his help on him. He remembers how carefully he chose his words and the feigned nonchalance as he pretended it didn’t matter to him if Peter shrugged him off.

“Surprised the hell out of me when you actually pulled it off,” Tony admits, “and if I’m being honest… it kind of pissed me off too.”

Harley clenches his jaw and already has an argument half-formed in his head when Tony continues.

“Not that I’m not glad you did,” Tony says. “I was so jealous. Still am, if I’m being honest.” He pulls a face like it’s shameful to admit. Then he shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face. “It doesn’t feel fair that you can swoop in and get him to trust you with shit that I’ve been basically begging him to come to me with for the past two fucking years and he just does it, but... I kind of get it now,” he says, holding up the list. “I thought he came to you, but it was more calculated than that, wasn’t it? You figured this stuff out and used it and it worked.”

Harley shrugs. He doesn’t want to admit that he sort of manipulated Peter into trusting him, but that’s basically what he did. He can’t bring himself to regret it either.

“It wasn’t easy,” he says slowly, choosing his words. “I… I dunno. He still doesn’t tell me everything, but I think he tells me the most important things. I hope he does anyway.”

Tony sighs. “I’ll give this a shot but it might be too late for me.”

“I doubt it. He wants to trust you with stuff, I think. He’s just scared that you’re going to treat him like a kid.”

“Of course I’m going to treat him like a kid! He’s my- It’s my job to protect him.”

“It’s _not_ though,” Harley argues. “It’s your job to have his back, but he can look out for himself.”

“Can he?” Tony asks.

“This is exactly the shit that keeps him from coming to you,” Harley snaps, patience wore thin. He’s tired. Both physically and from the emotional drain of this circular argument.

Tony’s expression flickers and then he sets his jaw stubbornly. “I just want him to be safe.”

“And he just wants you to trust him. I don’t get why you can’t pretend for a little while. One of you has to bend first if you’re ever gonna get past this and it’s not gonna be Peter.”

“What good is pretending going to do?” Tony demands. “I can’t just sit around with my thumb up my ass while my idiot kid is out there jumping into explosions!”

“I _told you_ _,”_ Harley says, fighting to keep from raising his voice, “if you do the things on the list then he’ll come to you like he does to me. He trusts me because I trusted him first. You just… you have to pretend to be okay with shit that freaks you out. I do it all the time.”

“It’s different,” Tony says stubbornly. “He’s not your kid, Harley.”

“That doesn’t mean I love him any less!” Harley snaps.

Tony’s annoyance fades and is replaced with a little smirk.

Harley backtracks. “I mean…”

“No,” Tony interrupts. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

Harley crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, heart in his throat. Tony unfolds his legs and hops down off the workbench, setting aside the notebook as he does so. He puts a hand on Harley’s shoulder.

“You really do love him. Don’t you?”

“I…” Harley considers lying. Admitting it out loud to someone who’s conscious and, worse, who could spill the beans to Peter before Harley gets the chance to tell him himself is terrifying. Wearing his heart on his sleeve has never been something he’s been comfortable with. Giving people power over him by showing what’s important to him gives him the heebie-jeebies. And yet… pretending not to care about Peter as much as he does makes him sick to his stomach.

“What’s not to love?” he finally mutters with a shrug.

Tony doesn’t say anything and instead pulls Harley against his chest in a tight but short hug.

“Dibs on picking the venue,” Tony says as he releases him.

“What?” Harley says, leaning back so he can see Tony’s face. He’s got a weird look on his face like he’s trying not to cry.

“The wedding venue,” Tony says simply. “I get to pick it.”

Harley snorts. “We already agreed we’d elope if you got too involved in the planning.”

Tony’s jaw drops and he stares at Harley with an unreadable expression. “You didn’t… Are you _engaged?_ I thought you were just dating.”

“What? No! We’re not- Yeah, we’re dating. Jesus.” Harley crosses his arms and looks away to hide his heated cheeks. “Why would you think… Ugh.”

“You said you agreed to elope! What was I supposed to think?”

 _“Hypothetically!_ And it only came up because he overheard Pepper telling May that you guys would pay for the wedding.”

Tony puts his hand over his heart like he’s making sure it’s still beating. “I think I just had a heart attack.”

Harley rolls his eyes and gets to his feet. “Are we done here? I’m exhausted.” _And I really wanna go snuggle with my boyfriend._

Tony hesitates and glances at the list. “I think so,” he says slowly. “I’ll… try.”

“Trying is good,” Harley says.

Tony looks up at him. “Are we good?” he asks, face carefully composed. “I… didn’t like you being gone that long while we were… off.”

Harley chews the inside of his cheek and then shrugs. “Yeah. We’re good.” He’s not sure how long that’ll last if Tony falls right back into treating Peter how he did before but for now, it’s the truth.

“Good.” He clears his throat. “Does that mean I’m allowed to go back to trying to convince you to go to M.I.T.?”

Harley groans and heads for the door. “I’m not going to M.I.T. and neither is Peter.”

“It’s not too late to switch! I’ve got connections!” Tony calls after him.

“Not happening!” Harley says as the doors slide open.

“Think about it!”

“Good night, Tony,” Harley says forcefully.

“It’s not even four.”

“Whatever.”

“M.I.T.’s better!” Tony shouts quickly as the doors slide shut.

In the elevator out of sight, Harley allows himself a small smile. Even though things aren’t perfect, it feels good to fall back into the familiar. He hopes it lasts. He doesn’t like him and Tony being at odds.

Upstairs, he finds Peter perched on his bed, waiting for him.

“Hey.” Harley shuts the door behind him and Peter sets his phone on the nightstand.

“How’d it go?”

Harley sighs and puts his arms around Peter’s shoulders. Peter wraps his arms around his waist and rests his head on his chest.

“Fine, I guess,” Harley says. “He’s kind of a pain in the ass. Sorry it took so long.”

“‘S okay,” Peter mutters. “As long as you guys are going to get along again. I don’t like being the mediator.”

“We’re good.” He leans down and kisses the top of Peter’s head. “Naptime?”

“Naptime,” Peter agrees smiling up at him.

~*~

“Is that the last one?” Peter asks as Harley steps onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” Harley says as he shifts the box in his arms so he can see better as he steps off the curb. “What’s with the fancy security stuff on the door? It looks like Tony attacked it.”

Peter huffs a small laugh. “I dunno. All May will tell me is that she lost a bet.”

They both turn to look at May where she’s standing at the base of the steps to her apartment, her arms crossed lightly over her chest. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” she says with a sly smile.

“Oh gross!” Peter says. “What kind of bet- No, I don’t want to know. Never tell me.”

Harley laughs and leans into the trunk to set down the last box. The Mustang’s trunk isn’t very big but luckily Peter doesn’t have very much stuff to move to the tower. It helps that Tony already has a fully furnished room set up for him that he’s already been half-living in for years. Judging by the clanking coming from the majority of the boxes, Harley thinks they’re mostly moving all of Peter’s dumpster junk, half-built projects, and other odds and ends.

“Don’t get rid of my Legos,” Peter says to May for the fifth time.

Harley shifts some boxes around, stalling to try and give them a little privacy. Peter’s been… quiet since Ned and MJ packed up and left for Boston and California last week. Harley was sad to see them go but Peter’s been taking it hard. He’s been spending more time web slinging around the city than ever and when he’s over at the tower all he does is either lay around and snuggle with Bumpurr and Harley while they watch Netflix or he buries himself in work in the lab. Harley has a feeling that moving away from his aunt isn’t going to make any of it easier.

“I know, I know,” Peter says without letting May respond. “You said you won’t. I just… Just in case you wonder if it’d be alright in like six months or something I want you to know that I don’t want you to.”

“Peter. Trust me, I know,” May says, amused and exasperated in equal measure. “I’m not going to purge the apartment while you’re away at college. You’ll still have a space here any time you want to come back.”

Harley hears the deep rattling breath Peter takes before he says in a tight voice, “Yeah? I mean, if you wanted to turn my room into a-,”

“We both know you don’t want me to turn your room into anything,” May says and then continues softly, “What’s this really about?”

Peter sighs. “What if… I dunno.” He’s nearly whispering when he says, “Maybe I should just stay here. It’s not that much farther from the school and it’d make being… _you know who_ easier and I just… I dunno. I don’t know if I want things to change this much. What if I don’t like living at the tower? What if I want to come back?”

“Peter,” May says. “You can always, _always_ come back. I’m not going to touch your room. I mean that. Anytime you want to come back, you’ll have your room. Whether that means to live here or if it’s just to crash for the night after being out partying or if you and Harley get into a fight and you need some space. Don’t give me that look. Couples fight sometimes. God knows me and Ben used to-,”

She clears her throat and continues, “As far as I’m concerned, this is still your home and will always be home. As for everything else, it’ll all fall into place exactly how it’s meant to. Try not to worry so much. Okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, okay. I mean… if you change your mind that’s okay-,”

“I’m not going to change my mind. Even when you’re married and living in the suburbs, this is still your home.”

Peter snorts. “You know I’m never gonna move out of the city.”

“Never is a long time. Even _you know who_ is due a retirement.”

Harley moves around some more boxes, hoping they’re almost done. He doesn’t know how much longer he can feasibly pretend to be busy in the trunk.

“Oh Peter,” May says softly and Harley peaks up around the raised lid of the trunk to see her draw him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Peter chokes out.

It makes Harley’s heart ache to hear, not only because he doesn’t like hearing Peter hurting, but because he can empathize. Leaving Rose Hill was simultaneously one of the easiest and most difficult things he’s ever done. He’d been planning it since he was twelve and Tony Stark left him standing in the middle of the road suddenly bereft without the excitement the billionaire had brought down on Rose Hill like a giant sledgehammer, but when it came time to tell Mama and Abbie goodbye he almost changed his mind.

“Baby, you’re going to be having so much fun you’re going to forget all about me.”

“Impossible,” Peter says, voice muffled against May’s shoulder.

They go quiet and Harley shoves one last box before deciding it’s safe to interrupt. He slams the trunk and leans his hip against it with his arms crossed comfortably over his chest. Peter steps back out of the hug and wipes his eyes.

May kisses his forehead. “Remember, I’m just a phone call away. Anytime you want to chat, just call or stop over.”

Peter nods and lets her kiss his cheek before he steps towards the car, shooting Harley an embarrassed smile. Harley rolls his eyes with a little smile of his own and jerks his head towards the front of the car.

“Ready?”

“Hold your horses, Mr. Keener,” May says, grinning playfully and holding out her arms. “Don’t think you’re getting out of here without a hug too.”

Harley grins and eagerly steps onto the sidewalk. He wraps his arms around her thin shoulders and she puts her arms around his waist and perches her chin on his shoulder.

“Promise you’ll take care of him for me?” she whispers. Harley knows Peter can hear her and he figures she’s gotta know that too. He gives her a reassuring squeeze.

“I promise.”

~*~

Over the next week, they sign up for classes and manage to get matching schedules. They figure with Peter splitting his time between school and Spider-Man, it’ll be for the best if they have the same classes so they can study together and help each other with homework. At the beginning of the summer, they mapped out the next four years and figured out they’ll be able to take the same classes for the first two years before their majors diverge, but even then they’ll still have a few overlapping courses they can take together since they’re both minoring in Electrical Engineering.

For the first time he can remember, Harley’s excited about school.

Peter keeps to his increased patrols as Spider-Man, even after moving into the tower. It worries Harley but he doesn’t say anything and keeps one eye on the news and the other peeled for texts from Peter, but somehow Peter manages to stay out of major trouble. Every night, Harley waits up for Peter to get back from patrolling and then they chat about his night while Harley patches any rips, tears, or burns Peter and the suit picked up throughout the evening. It’s good for soothing Harley’s anxiety, but it’s killing his vague goal of correcting his sleep schedule before classes start. Staying up until two or three in the morning isn’t going to fly when they start 8:00 am classes.

Still, he wouldn’t give up those nights for anything.

On the day of orientation, Tony insists on coming with them, ostensibly to check out the security measures and make sure they’re up to snuff for the heirs of Stark Industries. Peter snorts when he says the word, ‘heirs’, but something about the look in Tony’s eyes makes Harley think he isn’t joking. It gives him a little jolt of… something… to think that Tony would really leave it all to a couple of kids he’s not even related to. He makes a note to hack into Tony’s personal server and sneak a peek at his will. He’s not sure that he wants to inherit Stark Industries but if that’s Tony’s plan then he thinks he should figure out how he feels about it sooner rather than later.

They arrive at the main building and Harley stares up at it in awe. Stainless steel rises up the sides of the building in elegant rolling waves. As he steps closer he sees the mechanism underneath that can move the steel sheets to either block out the sun or let it in.

“Woah,” he says.

“There’s a green roof too,” Peter says, grinning up at the building and bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.

“What’s a green roof and how d’you know about it?” Harley asks, shading his eyes as he squints up at the roof. He thinks he sees some long blades of grass drooping over the edge but it’s hard to tell with the goddamn August sun doing its damnedest to blind him. Peter shoots him a look and Harley rolls his eyes. Of course, Spider-Man’s probably been crawling all over this building for months checking it out.

“It’s like a prairie up there. It catches rainwater for them to use for like toilet water and stuff and keeps it off the street. The city doesn’t have enough dirt to soak up rain when it storms so our sewers get overloaded pretty easily and then we end up just dumping it all into the Hudson so stuff like this helps prevent that.”

“Nasty,” Harley says. “Never thought I’d live somewhere where not enough dirt was a problem. Rose Hill’s nothin’ _but_ dirt. Dirt ‘n shit.”

Peter grins. “Well, we’ve got the shit part in common at least. C’mon, I haven’t been inside yet.”

Tony follows behind them at a sedate pace, unusually silent as they nearly race for the front door. He’s still bitter that neither of them broke down and applied to M.I.T.. The inside is less impressive than the exterior but still nice. Harley wonders if he’s becoming desensitized to extravagance after staying at the tower so long and makes a mental note to get out more often.

Beyond the security desk, a grand staircase towers above them four stories into the open atrium and above that two smaller bridge-like staircases lead to the upper floors. One wall is all windows, but the stainless steel panels outside are closed so the blazing afternoon sun isn’t baking all of them. High above them a huge lattice curls down two stories and casts strange shadows over the polished floors. There aren’t a lot of people up there, which makes sense since the upperclassmen aren’t supposed to arrive until later in the week, but there are several teachers wandering around the upper floors and a large crowd of people his and Peter’s age milling around the atrium likely waiting for the orientation to start.

“Wow,” Peter breathes. “This is so cool.”

“Not as nice as the M.I.T. Museum,” Tony mutters.

Peter and Harley both pretend not to hear him. He’s been grumpy all morning and keeps bringing up M.I.T. like there’s a chance they’re going to change their minds this late in the game. Harley wishes he would just give up already and face the facts.

“Hello, new students and welcome to Cooper Union!” A young woman maybe a few years older than them with thick blonde hair tied back in a ponytail steps up to greet them with a smile, loosely hugging a clipboard to her chest. “I’m Trinity and I’ll be your guide for the day. On the security desk are some informational packets including an itinerary for today as well as your student IDs. You’re required to keep your ID on you at all times when you’re on campus and report any lost or stolen badges to security as soon as you notice it’s missing. If you tell me your names I’ll get you checked off my list.”

She shifts her clipboard into her hands and smiles at them expectantly. It’s mildly terrifying, but Peter seems unaffected by her ruthless competence.

“Peter Parker,” he says without hesitation. “It’s so nice to meet you. Are you a student here too?”

Trinity blinks at Peter and then her gaze flits to Tony standing behind him wearing his characteristic blue-tinted glasses and then she meets Harley’s eyes for a brief second before looking back at Peter, eyes wide with startled realization. Peter doesn’t seem to notice and waits with a patient smile for her reply.

“I uh, yeah. I’m… a senior this year.”

“Oh cool! What major?”

“Mechanical Engineering,” Trinity mutters.

Peter gasps and looks at Harley with an open-mouthed smile of delight before turning back to Trinity. “Harley too! Maybe you can give him some pointers!”

“That’s okay,” Harley says quickly. “You don’t have to. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Umm yeah,” Trinity glances at the crowded atrium and manages a small but genuine smile at Harley, “maybe some other time though? I’m sure we’ll run into each other eventually. It’s a small school.”

“858 students,” Harley and Peter spout off in unison.

Trinity’s lips twitch into a smile. “858 _undergrads_ _,”_ she corrects. “Last count I heard was 952 total student body which puts us at a 7:1 student to faculty ratio.”

Tony snorts. “M.I.T. has a 3:1 ratio.”

Trinity’s smile flickers and becomes forced and Peter groans.

Harley says, “Will you give it a rest about M.I.T. already?”

Tony holds up his hands in surrender and looks away, frowning at the security desk in disdain. Peter glances at Harley and they trade a long-suffering look. It’s gonna be a long two hours.

Trinity reminds them to collect their badges and packets and excuses herself to go greet other new arrivals, calling over her shoulder that they’ll start in a few minutes.

They wander over to the security desk and collect their things as instructed.

“I think she likes you,” Peter says, clipping his badge to his breast pocket of his button-up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harley snatches the badge from his shirt. “It goes like this on your pants so you don’t look like a giant nerd.” He clips it to Peter’s pant pocket and then does the same with his own. “Of course she liked me. I’m incredibly charming.”

“I’ve seen other people with them on their shirts before,” Peter grumbles, but he leaves the badge where Harley clipped it. “No I think she was like… interested in you.”

“Anyone you saw with their badge on their shirt was a giant nerd,” Harley points out. “She was just bein’ nice. You know she recognized us, right?”

“Well yeah.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Which probably helped with the whole being interested in you thing.”

Harley tilts his head and regards Peter with a bemused smile. Peter doesn’t return the smile, but he doesn’t really look upset either. “You’re not jealous or something are you?” Harley asks, just to be sure. “You know I’m like… totally gone on you, right?”

Peter purses his lips thoughtfully and after a moment he shakes his head. “No. Not jealous,” he decides. “It’s just weird. We basically spent this whole summer in a bubble where it was the two of us or us and family and now there’s going to be a whole bunch of other people that might want to be friends with you and spend time with you. I dunno. I like having you all to myself.”

“Huh,” Harley says. He hasn’t felt that way. Not even a little. If anything he almost feels like he has to schedule time with Peter in order to get a piece of him… Or wait until 2am. He’s had to “share” Peter with Tony, May, Ned, MJ, his Spider-Man duties all summer. He’s not bitter about it—If anything, he’s glad Peter has so many people that care about him—but he gets a funny feeling in his stomach when he thinks about Peter feeling possessive over him. Like… in a good way.

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

Peter pouts at him. “I’m an only child. I never learned how to share.”

Harley laughs and bumps him with his elbow. “Sounds like I’m stuck with you then.”

The orientation begins shortly after and they join the crowd that follows Trinity through the security turnstiles and down a hallway off to the left where signs point to the auditorium.

The presentation they watch there is only mildly interesting to Harley but Peter is on the edge of his seat for the whole hour-long spiel. He likes getting to see the sciencey stuff that students have made over the years, but all the talk about the history of the school and their goals and student activities are blah blah _boring ._

When it’s over they split up into smaller groups and get to tour the building. They end up with Trinity as their guide and Harley smiles at her when he catches her eye. She smiles back at it’s one of the last genuine smiles she makes for the next ten minutes as Tony begins a running commentary on the sub-standard equipment in every classroom they go in. He’s talking to Peter and Harley, but he doesn’t bother keeping his voice down and everyone can hear him.

Harley is fed up with his attitude but before he can put his foot down, Peter does.

Peter stops dead in his tracks halfway down the hall on their way to the chemistry lab and says, “Mr. Stark, you’re being rude and you need to stop.”

The entire group pauses and stares at the scene unfolding before them. Harley takes in the stubborn set of Peter’s jaw and sidles up to Trinity. “We’ll catch up,” he tells her.

She hesitates, biting her lip and then nods. “We’ll be down the hall to the left. Don’t wander off.” Then she herds the rest of the first-year students onward down the hall.

“But look at this place!” Tony exclaims. “We’ve got equipment three times as nice back at home. You boys can do so much better than-,”

“This is a good school,” Harley interrupts.

“It is,” Tony allows with obvious reluctance, “but you could do better. I just want what’s best for you boys.”

“This is my choice,” Peter says forcefully. “You can either respect that I’m capable of making good choices for myself and quit with the sarcastic comments or you can wait outside.”

Tony looks shocked. When him and Peter clash it’s usually more an airing of grievances that’s “resolved” when they take some time apart to cool off. Peter’s never ordered Tony around before.

“Pete, listen-,”

“No, you’re the one that needs to listen, Mr. Stark! I made this choice. I understand that you don’t like it, but I don’t care. This is what I’m gonna do. Are you going to support me or not?”

Tony softens immediately. “Of course I support you, Pete. I just… No M.I.T.? Are you sure?”

Peter rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony says. “Message received. Fine, fine.” He turns to Harley.

“Don’t look at me,” Harley says. “It took me six years to get out here. I’m not gonna fuck off to Massachusetts when I got a full ride to a good school that has the undergraduate and graduate programs I want and is only a few minutes away from the tower and my super awesome internship under Tony Stark.”

Tony sighs. “I was never going to win this one, was I?”

“Nope,” Harley says at the same time Peter says, “It’s not about _winning .”_

He’s clearly still frustrated.

Tony wisely chooses not to respond to that.

“If you think everything’s so outdated, why don’t you make a donation?” Harley asks. “It’s not like you can’t afford it and it’d be to a good cause. This is the only university in New York that gives a scholarship to every student.”

“Oh I was already going to,” Tony says with feeling. “Their security is nowhere _near_ the level it’d need to be for me to be comfortable having you boys here every day, especially once it becomes public knowledge. We won’t be able to keep this under the radar. I suppose I can make two donations. One for security upgrades and one for new equipment.”

Harley side-eyes Peter who still looks pissed off. “Oh the woes of being a billionaire,” he mutters. Then he says in a hoity-toity tone, _“_ _I suppose I can make two donations. ”_

Peter reluctantly cracks a smile and then uncrosses his arms. “C’mon, let’s go catch up to the group. Try to be nice this time, Mr. Stark.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, kiddo.” He ruffles his hair as Peter hurries past him, eager not to miss more than they already have.

Harley falls into step beside Tony and lets Peter pull ahead, putting distance between them. “You know,” Harley starts, as quietly as he can manage. He hopes Peter’s distracted enough that he doesn’t listen in. There’s no way they’re entirely out of earshot. “All he wants is for you to be excited for him. He doesn’t want you to admit that he’s right or pump a bunch of money into the school of his choice. He just wants you to stop acting like he’s going to change his mind.”

For a minute, he wonders if Tony didn’t hear him, but then Tony sighs.

“I guess I know that. I was just hoping…” He shakes his head and lets his sentence fade away before putting his hand on Harley’s shoulder. They stop walking. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re good for Peter and you’re good for me. I don’t think we’d be as tight-knit if you weren’t here to talk sense to us.”

Harley shrugs. _Doubtful_ _,_ he thinks, privately. He doesn’t think there’s enough power in the universe to separate the two of them for long. They love each other. They’re father and son despite the lack of blood relation and legal paperwork.

“I don’t want you to feel like I was trying to send you away with all the M.I.T. talk,” Tony continues. “And I know I’m overprotective of Peter because he’s always getting into trouble and maybe that makes you feel like I pay more attention to him than I do to you… But I love you both like sons and that’s the truth and you should know it. I don’t want you to ever doubt your place in our little patchwork family.”

Harley feels too warm and his eyes prick with tears as he stares down at his shoes. He didn’t think he was doubting his place anymore, but something slides into place inside him and he feels a little bit more sure, a little bit more plugged in.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Tones.” His voice comes out far too tender.

Tony snorts and squeezes his shoulder. “You’re so much like me. I don’t know why it still surprises me.”

“Not too much like you, I hope,” Harley says, chancing a glance up at him. He knows his eyes are watery by the way Tony’s face softens.

“Nah. Just the right amount I think.”

“Are you guys coming?” Peter demands from down the hall. “They’re already in the chem lab!”

“Calm down. We’re coming, we’re coming,” Harley says. Tony drops his hand from his shoulder and they meet Peter just outside the lab. He’s bouncing with impatience and excitement, the confrontation apparently already forgotten.

“Hurry up! I don’t want to miss anything!”

Just before they follow him inside, Harley elbows Tony lightly. “Thanks,” he says.

Tony elbows him back. “You’ve got nothing to thank me for. Let’s go pretend to be wowed by the completely average chemi-,”

“Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Best behavior.”

~*~

Later, after the tour group has dispersed and the orientation activities have officially ended, Peter and Harley wander the empty halls of the school that they’ll begin attending in just a few weeks while Tony grills the director of security in his office.

They’re outside the physics lab when Peter takes Harley’s hand in his. Harley can’t help the silly smile that curls his lips so he looks away, looking at the artwork that dots the walls as they pass.

“You know,” Peter starts quietly, drawing Harley’s attention away from the walls. Peter doesn’t look at him. Instead, he keeps his eyes pointed straight ahead. “Tony was right. You are good for us. And umm, thanks. For always having my back.”

Harley squeezes his hand and without looking away says, “Anytime, seriously.”

Peter looks up at him and smiles in an embarrassed way that makes his nose crinkle up adorably.

“There you two are. Hope I’m not interrupting,” Tony says, striding up to them and looking delighted to be interrupting, “but I finally finished going over the new security measures they’ll need to get in place and we’ve got reservations to get to.”

“We do?” Peter asks.

“‘Course we do. We’ve got plenty to celebrate and Pepper’s already on her way so we really don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“We’re not going to some fancy-pants French place again, are we?” Harley asks.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Like we would embarrass ourselves like that again. No, it’s Olive Garden.”

“Yes!” Peter cheers. “Bring on the breadsticks! I’m getting all you can eat pasta this time. Hope you brought a wheelbarrow. You’re gonna have to roll me home.”

Tony and Harley trade glances and smiles.

“Oh before I forget,” Tony says, snapping his fingers, “I got a call from the police department. They found the bank account the ransom money got moved to. They wouldn’t give me any details since the trial hasn’t happened yet, but the long and short of it is that I’m getting my money back and those idiots who kidnapped you are going to prison for a long long time.”

“Holy shit,” Harley says, stunned.

“That’s amazing, Mr. Stark!”

Harley isn’t sure how he feels about it. He hasn’t really thought about the whole kidnapping thing in months. He’s happy, he supposes. He’s glad they’re getting justice for everything they’ve done. He’s not excited for the details of what all they’ve done to come out during the trial. He’d rather think of them as idiot kidnappers who got caught than to learn about all the times previous when they got away with it.

He shivers thinking about how bad things could have gone if Peter hadn’t been there—If he’d been taken and Peter hadn’t been. Or if Peter hadn’t been Spider-Man. Or if Peter had gotten seriously injured and couldn’t get them out.

Peter squeezes his hand, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What are you going to get for dinner?”

Harley blinks at him and Peter waits patiently for him to extract himself from his thoughts. Belatedly, he realizes how tightly he’s holding onto Peter’s hand and loosens his grip, embarrassed to be caught spiraling.

“Uh I dunno,” he mutters. “The lasagna was pretty good last time. Might just do that again.”

Peter crinkles his nose. “You should try the mushroom ravioli. It’s seriously amazing.”

“If it’s so good, why don’t you get it then?”

“Because it’s not all-you-can-eat, duh.”

Harley snorts and Peter grins at him. Something settles in his chest and the anxiety that had been building dissolves. They’re okay. It doesn’t matter what might have happened. What matters is what did happen and what Harley gained from it. He wouldn’t have wanted it to shake out any other way.

[ ](https://imgur.com/s3VpBfC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made an art... lol sort of. Hope you enjoy  
> ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT *wheeze*  
> I really like this chapter even though it's just a series of short soft moments but there's so much GROWTH. Anyway... The next chapter is a ride and probably my most very favorite. I can't WAIT to share it with you next week.  
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all of the lovely comments! You guys make me so happy! Stay safe out there <3


	18. Like a fucking wrecking ball

~ ** Peter ** ~

Peter’s exhausted. He’s been burning both ends of the candle for a couple of weeks now. He can tell Harley’s concerned but he hasn’t pressed him about it and for that Peter’s grateful, even if he kind of feels like a jerk for not telling him what’s going on. He doesn’t want him to worry more than he already is. At first, he only wanted to get out and get some air. Patrolling helps him think and reminds him why he stayed in New York instead of following Ned to Boston.

Then this Rhino guy popped up.

“Man, what are you doing going after small fish like us?” the drug dealer he just finished webbing to the wall complains as he struggles futilely against the webs. “You gotta know there’s a literal supervillain roughing up-,”

“Dude, what are you? A narc?” The second guy interrupts the first, not bothering to struggle as he slowly rotates where he’s strung up from the street light in a thick cocoon of webbing.

“I ain’t a narc!” Drug Dealer #1 exclaims, now hanging limp against the wall, resigned to his fate. “He’s not  _ one of us _ _._ He’s a freak and it ain’t natural. And he’s dangerous. People  _ want _ drugs. They come to us for drugs. What he’s doin’, nobody asked for.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter demands. Neither of them are going anywhere for a couple hours so a minute or two of conversation isn’t going to hurt and he’s curious. A supervillain? He hasn’t gone one-on-one against one of those since the Vulture and he’s not entirely sure he counts—he was just a regular dude with some seriously awesome tech. Then again… maybe that’s all it takes.

The drug dealers don’t have a lot to tell him but it’s enough to get him started.  _ Rhino _ is what people have started calling him because he wears a hulking metal exo-suit that has a rhino head and stomps around the subway maintenance tunnels at night sometimes getting in fights, but mostly sticking to his own secret agenda. When Peter tries to press them about what actual crimes the guy has committed, both dealers go quiet. Either they don’t know or they refuse to say.

So he starts searching.

He starts with Queens simply because that’s where he found the drug dealers. He searches the subway tunnels and questions anyone he comes across down there, but it’s mostly graffiti artists that he doesn’t bother webbing up. He’s always enjoyed graffiti art and as long as they’re down here making art for the sake of making art and not vandalizing storefronts then he doesn’t see why he should get them in trouble over it.

“Brooklyn? You’re sure?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, yeah totally,” the kid says, nodding earnestly. He’s probably a couple of years younger than Peter and is looking up at him in wide-eyed wonder. “That’s why I came all the way over here. Things were getting… weird over there.”

“Weird how?”

The kid shrugs, looking over his shoulder before facing Peter again and wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Uhh just like… A lot of activity down there. Usually, it’s just me and maybe some homeless dudes but I’ve been hearing a lot of voices. It’s echoey so it’s hard to figure out where they’re coming from and I didn’t see anybody except the Rhino guy that one time but there’s definitely something going on down there.”

“That is weird,” Peter muses to himself. Why would a bunch of people suddenly start frequenting the subway tunnels? Maybe they’re doing maintenance or something else normal, but the low hum in the back of his head makes him think that’s not it. He’ll have to go check it out.

“Hey, uh, thanks for your help.”

“Oh, yeah sure. It’s really cool to meet you actually,” the kid says with an awkward grin while he absently scratches the back of his hand. Peter catches a glimpse of a raised bump and his spidey sense turns up a notch.

“What’s that?” he asks, squinting at the bump.

“What? Oh, just a bug bite,” the kid shrugs. “Kinda itchy.”

Peter’s spidey sense cranks up another notch.

“What kind of bug? Just curious,” he adds hurriedly at the kid’s weirded out expression.

“Umm it was a spider. A kinda freaky looking one actually now that you mention it. Do you think it was poisonous?” the kid asks, suddenly alarmed.

“Venomous,” Peter corrects automatically, his spidey sense now dialed up three more notches. The kid looks up at him with panicked eyes. “I mean, no! I don’t think- I mean, it’s  _ probably _ not- Do you feel okay?”

“I think so?” the kid says. He looks down at his body and puts his hand over his chest like he’s making sure his heart is still beating. “What’s it feel like to slowly die from spider venom?”

“Uhh…” Peter doesn’t know how to answer that. He thinks back to how it felt when he was bitten by the spider at Oscorp. It hurt to be bitten, but he was totally fine until that night. He kinda felt like he had the flu and was just going to try to sleep it off, then out of nowhere it got so bad that he couldn’t even go get Aunt May to have her take him to the hospital. It hurt really bad all over and then he passed out, thinking he wouldn’t ever wake up.

But he did. He woke up the next morning and everything was different.  _ He _ was different. Is that what’s going to happen to this kid? Was he bit by a radioactive spider too? What are the chances?

He’s probably overreacting, but just in case he holds out his hand and says, “Lemme see your phone.”

The kid hesitates, but then digs his phone out of his pocket and passes it over. “What are you doing?”

“Will you unlock it?” Peter asks. “I’m gonna give you my phone number.”

Probably a bad idea.

“What? Why?” The kid asks, but he does as Peter asks and types in his pin before passing it over. Sometimes it pays to have a ‘friendly’ reputation.

“Just in case,” Peter mutters, distracted as he tries to remember how to work an android. He was forcibly transitioned to a Stark phone years ago after one too many shattered screens courtesy of the concrete. He saves his number as ‘SM’ and hands it back to the kid. “Just… if things get… weird, call me okay? Or text or whatever. I’ll help.”

“Okay?” the kid says, looking at Peter like he’s lost his mind. “It was just a bug bite. I’m sure it’s fine. I feel fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure you’re right,” Peter says, trying to convince himself. It probably  is fine but he can’t dismiss the way his spidey sense reacted to it. He hopes it’s fine. “I’ll uh… Thanks for the intel. D’you… D’you need help getting home?”

The kid blinks at him like he’s an idiot and yeah okay, he deserved that.

“Right. Well uh, thanks again,” Peter says and turns to head back the way he came, leaving the kid with his bag of spray paint and half-finished piece on the wall. Then he stops and faces him again. “Your shoe is untied by the way.”

He shrugs and says, “It’s a choice.”

“…right. Okay then. Seriously, call me if… weird stuff starts happening.”

“Do you give out your number all the time or am I just special?”

Pete grins and says with a shrug, “Guess you’re special.”

The kid beams at him, but quickly turns away to hid the smile. “Thanks Spidey. I’m… I’m Miles by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Miles. I’ll see you around?”

Miles shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll see ya.”

Peter jogs away before he can do anything else awkward and hopes that Miles doesn’t have to call him. There’s a lot of perks that go with having spidey powers but there’s a lot of drawbacks too and Miles is just a kid. He deserves to be just a kid.

~*~

Peter hightails it over to Brooklyn and drops back into the subway tunnels first chance he gets. He wanders for hours, wishing he would have gotten more exact information from Miles on where he’s been hearing voices, but eventually he stumbles upon an alcove off of a dank little side tunnel that looks like it was recently used for something not subway related.

The fresh scrapes on the concrete floor are what catch his attention. It looks like something massive was dragged out to the rail where it promptly vanished. Is there an old car being used down here? This isn’t a main line. It shouldn’t be in use but how else would something big enough to gouge the concrete like that be moved without leaving further evidence?

He ducks into the alcove and uses the spidey signal on his web-shooter to light the dark space. There are scattered tools on the ground and some shattered glass that looks like it could have been a beaker. There are some papers scattered on the floor but they’re incomprehensible lines of code that without the full thing he can’t do anything with. He tucks them in the hidden pocket on his thigh anyway and then puts his hands on his hips and sighs. Whoever was down here left in a hurry but they’re long gone and they took all of their equipment with them.

It leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

~*~

Peter hovers around his phone for the next couple of days but Miles never calls. In this case, he figures no news is good news and ignores the little voice in the back of his head that says his spidey sense has never led him astray before. He drops by the Queens subway maintenance tunnels every now and again but Miles is never there and what can he do if Miles doesn’t reach out? He lets it go. He doesn’t have a choice. He still hasn’t managed to track down Rhino and the search is eating up more and more of his time. He’s not sure if it was him that was using that subway tunnel or if it was someone else, but he’s starting to think Rhino is looking for someone too.

The people he asks don’t have a lot to tell him about what Rhino is doing. They only know that he’s got some seriously heavy-hitting tech and he’s roughed up a few people and he’s scary as fuck. Peter hacks into the NYPD’s database, but can’t find any records of anyone reporting getting beat up by a guy wearing a mechanized rhino suit and the media hasn’t picked up the story yet either which tells him that Rhino isn’t looking for attention and he’s not hurting people for the sake of hurting people. He’s got an agenda. He’s just gotta figure out what it is.

For a little while, Peter wonders if maybe he’s a new vigilante but then he finally happens across one of his victims. It’s just a guy. He’s not a mob boss or a gang member or even a petty thief. He’s just some dude who works at Oscorp which, okay, Peter doesn’t trust them ever since the radioactive spider incident, but still. He’s just a  _ guy _ _._ He probably didn’t deserve to be beaten within an inch of his life.

There have been sightings of him in the subways in both Bronx and Manhattan now too, but Peter seems like he’s always one step behind him. It’s making him nervous and the criminals he catches are starting to anticipate his questions about Rhino. He doesn’t like that it’s becoming common knowledge that he’s hunting the guy. It makes him feel obvious and clumsy. Like if he’s not careful, he’ll end up as the one being hunted.

~*~

Peter climbs into his room through the window, worn out and ready to drop, but what’s new? He kicks his suit into the corner while shrugging into a t-shirt in the same motion and Bumpurr leaps from the ground onto his shoulder, lithe and effortless and with minimal claw like the total sweetheart she is. She rubs her face against his cheek, already purring.

“Hey baby girl,” Peter murmurs, rubbing his cheek on her head as he forces a leg through his pajama pants and tries not to overbalance and dislodge her. “Missed you too.”

He stifles a yawn. It’s only a quarter past seven but he can’t bring himself to put on jeans when he’s hoping to be passed out on the couch next to Harley in two hours or less. Normally he’d still be out patrolling but Harley made him promise he’d come home early tonight so they could have a date night. He even made sure he’s mostly on time because he knows he’s been neglecting him lately.

The most time they’ve spent together over the past few weeks has been in the wee hours of the morning when Peter gets back from patrolling and Harley fixes up the suit while Peter tells him about his day. He’ll never tell Harley, but he’s torn the suit on purpose a few times now to drag their time together out a little longer. It still doesn’t feel like enough so he’s glad Harley put his foot down, even if he can’t ignore the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that says this Rhino guy is trouble and if he doesn’t find him soon something bad is going to happen.

He kisses Bumpurr’s head as she settles against the side of his neck and curls her tail around his throat then pads barefoot down the hall, heading for the kitchen and fluffing his hair to unstick it from his scalp as he goes—mask hair is the worst. If he knows Harley, and he likes to think he does, then he knows he’ll have food ready and waiting for Peter to devour enthusiastically before they snuggle up on the couch and put on a movie or something.

Maybe that’s lame for a date night, but it sounds perfect to him even though it’s exactly what they’ve done dozens of times now. Sometimes they play Mario Kart or maybe goof off in the lab, but it always starts with food and it always ends wrapped around each other on the couch while the TV plays. Sure enough, as he approaches the kitchen he can smell something delicious.

He steps into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks.

_ “Happy birthday!” _

Bumpurr launches off his shoulder, using way too much claw, and flees to the living room. Peter doesn’t even wince. He’s too busy beaming in open-mouthed delight at the crowd of people crammed into the kitchen. Harley is front and center holding a homemade cake decorated red and blue with white webbing frosting painstakingly drawn across the top and over either of his shoulders is Mr. Stark and Pepper. Aunt May is beside Pepper grinning mischievously and filling up the rest of the kitchen is the Avengers: Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey, and even-

“Ohmigod Thor’s here for my birthday,” Peter blurts before he can stop himself. He feels the heat of a spectacular blush flood his cheeks as everyone laughs, Thor’s booming loudly over everyone else’s. Then he remembers that he’s wearing his pajamas and probably looks like a hot mess and the blush deepens.

He faces Harley and purses his lips in a pout. “Thanks for the warning,” he grumbles. “Could’ve at least told me to put on pants and comb my hair.”

“That would’ve ruined the surprise,” Harley says, not looking even a little sorry as he sets the cake on the counter. Everyone begins milling around, chatting with each other, revealing what’s basically a buffet of all different kinds of takeout piled on the table.

“Did you really think we’d forget your birthday?” May asks, stepping forward to pull him into a hug and drop a kiss to the top of his head.

“Uh… yeah. That’s definitely what I was thinking,” Peter mutters, hugging her back tightly and breathing in the scent of her favorite lavender lotion. It’s only been a few weeks since he moved out of the apartment but he’s missed her every day.

“I fucking knew it,” Harley says loudly. “You forgot your own birthday, didn’t you?”

Peter pulls a face. “Is it… Is it really the 10th already? I swear it was still July like… this morning.”

“Jesus, kid,” Mr. Stark say while the others laugh. “Welcome to adulthood, I guess. Time is meaningless. But seriously, you’ve gotta take a break if you can’t even keep track of what month it is.”

“Oh shit. I’m 18,” Peter says, struck by the sudden realization that he’s officially, legally no longer a kid. “I can vote!”

For some reason that gets another laugh and Mr. Stark ruffles his hair. “God, you sound like Steve. Don’t forget about strip clubs.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “Why would I ever go to one of those?”

Rhodey appears, laughing from somewhere behind Tony. He has a plate of food in one hand that Peter immediately zeroes in on as his stomach grumbles, unheard under all the chatter.

“You sure he’s your kid, Tones?”

“In everything but blood,” Mr. Stark answers without hesitation, sending Peter’s heart all atwitter. Luckily, he seems to have exhausted his ability to blush.

“Steve and Bucky are tearing into the beef and broccoli so if you-,”

“Oh hell no,” Peter says, elbowing his way past Mr. Stark and May before Rhodey can finish. He knows how much the two super soldiers can eat and there’s no way he’s going to let them eat all the good stuff before he can get his hands on any. “Hey, hey, hey! Leave some for the birthday boy you animals!”

“You’re an adult now, Peter,” Bucky shouts across the room, shoveling spoonfuls of chinese onto his plate. “We don’t have to hold back for you anymore.”

~*~

An hour later, Peter is smiling, his eyes closed as he leans against Harley’s chest with his arms wrapped around his waist as he listens.

Nat and Sam are in the kitchen bickering over the correct way to season popcorn. Bucky is seated on the floor next to Wanda and is patiently teaching her how to knit while Mr. Stark and Clint throw M&Ms at Thor who tries to catch them in his mouth even though they aren’t throwing gently and most of them ping off his face and scatter about the floor.

“Another!” Thor shouts with determination.

Mr. Stark and Clint giggle in delight and obligingly pelt him with more candy. Bruce is snoring softly where he’s passed out at the other end of the couch while Vision and Pepper chat quietly in the armchairs with Rhodey and May who, if Peter isn’t mistaken, are flirting.

“Need a refill?” Steve asks from directly beside him.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Harley says and Peter can feel the words rumble through his chest.

“Sure thing. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Peter hears Steve walk away and Harley combs his fingers through Peter’s hair and says quietly, “Just how I like ‘em.”

Peter doesn’t think life gets any better than this. The only way this day could be better is if Ned and MJ were here. The thought sends a pang of sadness through his chest but it’s almost immediately soothed away when Harley presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Is the little spider baby all partied out already?” Sam shouts from across the room.

“Hey, hey!” Harley shouts back. “I’ve got exclusive boyfriend rights to Spider Baby. Get your own nickname.”

“Kid, we’ve been calling him that since before you even met him.”

“Tough. It’s mine now, bird brain. And I gave it romantic connotations so you can’t use it anymore.”

Peter laughs, despite his determination to feign sleep.

“Ah ha!” Thor bellows. “The young spider is awake after all. I was concerned presents would have to wait for a later date.”

Peter cracks open an eye. “There’s presents?”

“What kind of birthday party would it be without presents?” Mr. Stark scoffs.

Peter shifts so he’s leaning against Harley’s shoulder and can see the room. Harley removes his hand from his hair to settle around his shoulders instead. “I dunno. I thought it was already pretty perfect without presents.”

“Awww,” May, Clint, Wanda, and Sam all coo and only Sam is sarcastic about it.

Peter rolls his eyes and sits up, instantly mourning the loss of Harley’s warmth. “So uh, where are they?”

“You can start with this one while Tony drags out the rest,” Harley says, digging a small wrapped something out of his pocket. He drops it into Peter’s waiting hands. He doesn’t waste a second before tearing into it.

Two thin leather bracelets fall into his lap, one dyed black and the other a warm dark brown.

“These are nice,” Peter says, picking them up and rolling one between his fingers. And they are. He’s never really been a jewelry person but they’re understated and he thinks he’ll like them simply because they remind him of Harley.

“They should be able to sit right below your web-shooters,” Harley explains. “If they get in the way, let me know and I can rework-,”

“Oh!” Peter jumps, nearly dropping them. “It vibrated!” One of the bracelets buzzed in his hand, just a simple, two-second long vibration.

“Which one?” Harley asks.

“Uh, the brown one, I think?” Peter says, looking more closely at the bracelets. What he’d thought was just leather seems to have some kind of sensor panel on one side, tiny and almost unnoticeable.

“That’s Ned then,” Harley says.

Peter whips his head up to stare at him. “What?” he asks, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.

“Ned has the pair to the brown one and MJ has one linked to the black one. Just, uh hold your finger on the little panel and it’ll make the matching pair vibrate to let them know you’re thinking of them and uh, they can do the same.”

Peter doesn’t even wait for Harley to finish his explanation before he holds his thumb to both sensors. The brown one vibrates back immediately, a single two-second note and then a few moments later the black one vibrates, two quick short bursts. Tears immediately spring into his eyes and he throws his arms around Harley’s neck and hugs him maybe a little too tight.

“Alright, Spider Baby,” Harley says softly. “Try to keep it together in front of the Avengers.”

Peter makes a strangled sound, his throat too tight to let words escape. He’s not sure whether he would have ended up saying ‘I hate you’ or ‘I love you’.

“I told you you should’ve gone last,” Mr. Stark says with mock exasperation. “You broke him.”

Harley shrugs, rubbing Peter’s back soothingly. “Had to make sure he remembers who his favorite is while he gets cool shit from literal superheroes.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten,” Peter sniffs. He releases Harley but doesn’t go far. He wipes his eyes and then holds out the bracelets. “Help me put them on?”

Harley ties both bracelets around Peter’s left wrist while Tony and Steve carry presents out of a side room and put them on the coffee table. Soon the coffee table is completely buried. Peter counts the people in the room and then the packages on the table and frowns when the numbers don’t match.

His confusion must show because Pepper explains, “There’s a couple things from Ned and MJ in there and you know Tony. He was never going to stop at just one gift.”

Peter rolls his eyes as Mr. Stark loudly defends himself and the Avengers begin mocking his billionaire status. He settles against Harley’s side and finds himself admiring his new bracelets. He presses the sensors again and smiles when they both vibrate almost immediately.

“I’m glad you like them,” Harley says, quiet and just for Peter’s ears.

“I love them. Thank you so much,” Peter says, looking up at Harley so he can make sure he feels the full strength of Peter’s gratitude.

Harley smooths Peter’s hair away from his face and tucks a curl behind his ear only for it to spring right back out. “You don’t have to thank me. I know how much you miss them and I wanted to help. It was a bitch getting the signal strong enough to reach MJ all the way in California, but they should work anywhere on the planet now. Maybe even space, who knows.”

Not caring who might be watching, Peter puts a hand on either side of Harley’s face and pulls him down for a slow kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispers when they break apart.

“You’d do just fine,” Harley tells him, but the look in his eyes is that soft one that keeps cropping up and makes Peter’s heart swell three sizes every time he sees it.

“Yeah, fine, but I wouldn’t be this happy and that’s a fact.”

A slow grin steals across Harley’s lips and he says, “Same.”

“Hey, love birds,” Happy’s voice breaks them apart as Peter whirls to find him standing in the doorway. “Quit with the sappy whispering. I think it’s present time.”

“Happy!” Peter exclaims. He hasn’t seen him in  _ months _ _._ “When did you get back?”

“Just now. Sorry I’m late.” He peeks into the kitchen and frowns. “I see no one saved me any food. Typical.”

“There’s a plate for you in the fridge, Hap,” Pepper tells him with a wry smile. “Glad to see you made it in okay. How was the flight?”

“Terrible,” he says, heading for the kitchen. “Too many people, not enough legroom. Same as always.”

“I offered the jet,” Mr. Stark calls after him.

Happy reappears with a plate of cold food in one hand and a fork in the other. “Yeah and then I would’ve had to keep an eye on the damn thing all summer and it wouldn’t have been a vacation at all.”

“Glad to have you back, man,” Rhodey tells him.

“Yeah, yeah. Are we doing presents or what?”

“Uh yeah,” Peter says, eying the pile. “Just… toss me one, I guess. Should we wake up Bruce?”

“Nah, let him sleep.” Nat plucks one out of the pile and tosses it to him. “This one’s from me,” she says as he catches it and starts tearing at the paper. “Don’t push the black button if you want to live.”

Peter pauses and holds the package much more gingerly than he had been before. “Right. Sure. Okay. That’s fine.”

Harley chuckles and Peter grins and it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.

~*~

After his birthday, the tower empties out as everyone goes their separate ways. Thor leaves for Asgard that night and Clint catches a flight back to his family in the midwest. Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Bucky have some top-secret mission that they can’t talk about except that it has something to do with dolls filled with drugs and their flight is going to be something like 13 hours long. Before they go, Peter overhears Sam and Bucky conspiring to prank him and Harley to get back at them for the whole Spider Baby nickname thing so he makes a mental note to keep an eye on them when they get back. 

Wanda and Vision have tickets to a ballet in Russia so they fly out first thing in the morning and Rhodey has to fly back to DC to prep for a meeting with the Secretary of Defense. Bruce, ever the introvert, goes back down to his floor with his own lab and stays there. Happy goes to his quarters, ostensibly to recover from his vacation, and May goes back to Queens after he hugs her long and tight and promises to visit soon.

The quiet is almost overwhelming after the nonstop banter and laughing the night before, but that’s how it always is when all of the Avengers get together in one place. It hardly ever happens anymore and Peter can’t even begin to express how honored he is that they all put in the effort to be here for his birthday.

He has the kitchen to himself as he sits atop the counter, a blanket around his shoulders, the remains of his birthday cake on a plate in his lap, and a fork in one hand and an apple juice box in the other as he swings his feet happily. He presses his bracelets and crams a large bite into his mouth as they vibrate, one long vibration and two quick bursts. That’s how Harley finds him.

He shuffles into the kitchen in his pajamas, hair sticking up and pillow lines creasing his cheek. He raises an eyebrow as Peter smiles at him, cheeks bulging.

“So you weren’t lying about liking the cake then?” he asks, amused.

Peter shakes his head emphatically. It’s really good cake. Not that his standards are high. Harley walks to the fridge and pulls out a juice box for himself as Peter swallows and forks up another bite of cake.

“Wanna bite?” He holds his fork out to Harley.

Harley shrugs and allows Peter to feed it to him.

“You two are getting a little too cute,” Mr. Stark says as he stumbles into the kitchen, also still in his pajamas. He heads straight for the coffee maker.

“Leave them alone,” Pepper says, entering behind him, dressed in a gray pantsuit with a cream-colored shirt as she puts in an earring. “I think it’s sweet.” She walks to the fridge and takes out one of her breakfast shakes before walking over to Harley and Peter and kissing each of their cheeks. “You boys stay out of trouble today. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“We will,” Harley tells her.

“Bye Pepper!” Peter says, struggling not to spray crumbs as he talks.

She kisses Tony’s cheek as well where he sits near-comatose at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee held between both hands. “You stay out of trouble too.”

“Mhmm.”

“Love you boys,” Pepper says as she heads out.

“Love you too,” all three chorus back.

Harley pinches some cake between his fingers and sticks it in his mouth, trailing crumbs over Peter’s blanket.

“Hey, watch it! This is cashmere!” Peter exclaims, brushing lightly at the crumbs lest they embed themselves in his brand new blanket.

“Cashmere?” Tony blurts, incredulous. “That is  _ fleece.” _

“But it’s so soft. Are you sure?” Peter asks, rubbing his cheek on the blanket. It’s one of his gifts from last night. Clint got it for him. It’s big and soft and most importantly, has Spider-Man on it. It was a fast favorite.

“I can’t be here right now.” Tony gets up and leaves the room, taking his coffee with him. They wait almost a full minute but he doesn’t come back.

“Wow, that was effective. I can’t believe he really left,” Harley says.

Peter laughs.

They spend most of the day lounging. It’s been too long since he took a day off and the festivities last night reminded him of how important they are. So even though Rhino is still a niggling worry in the back of his mind, he makes an effort to ignore it and focuses on Harley and Mr. Stark instead.

They’re in the lab and it’s almost dinner time when an alarm begins to blare. It’s the alarm that signifies an Avengers level threat but the only Avengers in the tower are Mr. Stark and Bruce and Bruce is kind of reserved for specific situations where property damage isn’t as much of a concern.

“What is it F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Tony asks while Harley and Peter trade a glance.

“There’s a disturbance in Queens,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says and Peter’s heart jumps into his throat. A holoscreen appears in front of Mr. Stark and he finds himself on his feet and moving towards it without remembering standing up.

“Rhino,” he breathes as soon as he can make sense of what he’s seeing. There’s a man in a mechanized suit that encases his head all the way down to his feet but leaves his face exposed. There are glowing red eyes on either side of the rhino shaped helmet and a horn protruding from the forehead.

“You’ve seen this guy before?” Tony asks, frowning as Rhino picks up a car and throws it into the side of a building. A group of police officers dive out of the way, ducking behind a squad car only to have to run again when Rhino picks up that car as well and hurls it down the street.

Peter shakes his head. “I’ve heard about him though. Been trying to find him for weeks.”

“Spider-Man!” Rhino yells and Peter’s heart sinks down to his toes. “I hear you’ve been looking for me Spider-Man! Why don’t you come out and we’ll see who’s stronger!” He rips a fire hydrant off the sidewalk and water gushes out of the ground as he crushes it between his hands.

“Right. So it’s just you and me then, Underoos,” Tony says, using the nickname he only uses for Peter when he’s in the Spider-Man suit. It wouldn’t take long for people to put two and two together if they heard Iron Man calling Spider-Man ‘Underoos’ and then Tony Stark went and called Peter Parker the same thing.

Peter turns to face him. “You’re gonna let me go?”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Sounds like this is your thing and I’m just tagging along as backup.”

A slow grin overtakes Peter’s face. Is this really happening? “Well let’s go then!” An Iron Man and Spider-Man team up? So cool!

He darts past Harley on his way to the doors, only pausing to press a quick kiss to his cheek as he goes.

“Don’t die,” Harley says.

Tony ruffles his hair as follows Peter and says, “Wouldn’t dream of it, kid. Hold down the fort for us. We’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Two minutes later, they’re both suited up and Tony has Peter under the armpits as they take off from the launch pad and rocket towards Queens. Peter lets out a whoop as they disturb a flock of pigeons and then laughs while Mr. Stark curses at the birds as they flutter around them.

A minute later they’re flying over Queens and Peter catches sight of Rhino, still rampaging down the street and terrorizing the cops who are desperately trying to contain him and failing.

“Drop me,” Peter says.

“Excuse me? Kid, I’m not gonna-,”

“C’mon,  _ Iron Man _ _._ Drop me!” Peter insists, wiggling. “I got this.”

“I swear to God, you better know what you’re doing,” Mr. Stark grumbles before he lowers his arms and lets Peter slip from his grasp.

Peter laughs as the wind rushes past him, exhilarating as always, and snaps out his arms. His gliders buoy him and he flies forward, aiming for Rhino. He’s coming in fast and completely unnoticed as Rhino knocks over a street lamp and uses it like an over-sized bat to smack a moped two stories up and through a window. Tony snaps at him to do something over the comms, but he ignores him and pulls in his arms and legs to pick up speed. He waits until he’s under the street lights before he shoots a web at one and swings through the air.

Rhino looks up a second too late as Peter smashes into him feet first and sends him crashing backward into a brick building. If Peter was a normal person, the impact would have shattered his legs, but he’s not normal so he rolls to his feet and strolls forward casually as he says, “Hey man. Heard you wanted to chat. What’s up?”

Bricks crumble to the sidewalk as Rhino extracts himself from the wall and Peter feels a tiny bit bad about that. He flew over a construction site a couple blocks back so hopefully he can lure him that direction and contain some of the property damage.

Rhino roars and charges at him.

“Oh. It’s  that kind of chat,” Peter says as he dances backwards, flipping just out of reach and drawing out another enraged bellow. “You know, I think I’m the one that deserves to be pissed. You never call. You never write.” He kicks off the corner of a building and cartwheels across an intersection, long since barricaded from the public by the police who warily watch them make their way down the street, guns at the ready.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks and nothing.” He spins out of the way of a punch. “Nada.” He does a back handspring to avoid being grabbed. “Zilch.” A repulsor blast slams into Rhino’s back and sends him stumbling forward into the construction site.

“Oh shoot! I forgot to mention I brought a friend. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You talk too much, kid,” Mr. Stark says as he lands beside him and shoots another blast at Rhino. Rhino is able to brace himself this time and keeps his feet as the blast slams into his chest and barely even leaves a mark on his exo-suit.

“Stark,” he snarls. “I don’t have a quarrel with you.”

“But you’ve got one with me?” Peter asks, curiosity piqued. He hasn’t even met the guy before but he’s somehow managed to get on his bad side.

“You. Ruined. EVERYTHING!” Rhino bellows as he tears a section of rebar off of the partially built structure beside him. “I lost their trail because of you and your incessant questions. I can’t find them because of you!”

He hurls the rebar at Peter like a spear and Peter easily dodges it.

“Who are you looking for?” Peter asks. “What were you going to do to them?”

“I was going to kill them, but now I’ll have to settle for killing you.” He tears off another section of rebar and the whole structure sways dangerously.

In a blink, the construction site is gone. Rhino is gone. Mr. Stark is gone. He’s under a pile of rubble and he can’t breathe. He’s in agony. He can’t move. He’s pinned and he’s alone. He opens his mouth to wail. _‘_ _ Hey, please! I’m down here! I’m down here! I’m stuck! _ _’_ His spidey sense screams, but he’s trapped. He can’t move.

An intense pain rips through his gut and he’s back where he was before, just inside the construction area with Mr. Stark at his side and five feet of rebar protruding from his stomach.

“NO!” Mr. Stark screams as Peter drops to his knees.

Everything goes black.

~ ** Harley ** ~

Harley watches in horror as the spear of rebar pierces through Spider-Man’s torso and out the other side with a spurt of blood. He feels sick and numb as Peter _(_ _ his Peter _ _)_ slumps to the ground and doesn’t move. He doesn’t get back up with a quip and a flip. He’s just… still.

Tony screams and Harley drops. Luckily, Happy is there to catch him and guide him onto a stool. He made his way down to the lab shortly after watching Tony and Peter take off and together they’ve been watching the footage of the fight from the CCTV camera Harley hacked into.

“Why didn’t he- Why didn’t he move?” Happy asks sounding lost. “He just… He stood there. He should’ve been able to dodge that easy. Why didn’t he move?”

Harley doesn’t have an answer for him. He can only stare as Iron Man stands in front of Peter’s unmoving body firing repulsor blast after blast, trying to hold off Rhino without letting Peter get hit again. The blasts don’t seem to do much against Rhino and he’s able to get in a few big hits. It’s not looking good. He could die. Peter could die. Both of them. Their mortality weighs on him all of the sudden. It’s heavy around his neck like a sack of bricks. Like an anvil. He could lose both of them tonight if someone doesn’t help them.

But no one’s here. It’s just him. Him and Happy.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. get me a suit. Right now.” He almost doesn’t realize the words are coming out of his mouth.

“An Iron Main suit?” Happy asks. “They’re coded to Tony’s biometrics. You can’t-,”

“Then I’ll jailbreak one,” Harley snaps forcing himself to his feet, “but I’m not… I  _ can’t _ sit here while they-,”

“No need, Harley,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says. “The Iron Lad armor is ready for you.”

“The what?”

A compartment in the wall flips open and a suit he’s never seen before stands there, lit from above. It’s a shining red and silver to complement Tony’s red and gold. And it’s… different from Tony’s. A different shape. Like it was built for a different person.

He walks closer and the armor opens, ready and waiting. He feels sick, but he steps into it anyway, heart pounding, and finds it fits him perfectly.

“Harley-,” Happy says, but the armor closes around him and hums to life.

“Hi, Iron Lad,” a female voice says from within the helmet. It’s not F.R.I.D.A.Y. Where F.R.I.D.A.Y. is soft and lilting with her Irish accent, this voice is warm and firm. It reminds him a bit of his ma.

“Who are you?” Harley asks, breathless.

“You can call me Kelsie,” she says.

“What’s that stand for?” Harley asks, knowing Tony well enough to know it’s an acronym for something.

“Keep Every Legacy Safe In Emergency.”

His heart lodges itself in his throat and he carefully steps down from the alcove where the armor had been stored. It’s more intuitive than he expected and he supposes it was silly of him to expect anything else. It’s Tony and Tony doesn’t settle for anything less than perfect.

“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this,” Happy says as Harley stomps towards the elevator. Harley glances at the holoscreen just in time to see Rhino swing another length of rebar at Iron Man. He catches it and bits of his gauntlet explode into pieces and rain around him. He could have dodged it but it might have hit Peter.

“They could die, Happy,” Harley says, not even trying to hide the emotion in his voice.

The doors open and he rushes through them with Happy on his heels.

“I’ll see you out then,” Happy says.

A minute later, he stands at the edge of the launch pad, his stomach in his throat and Happy at his back.

“Fuck.” He tries to swallow, but his throat only wants to move things one way.

“You okay, kid?”

Harley shakes his head and pulls in a deep breath. His pulse is racing wildly and he feels shaky and light-headed but there’s no one else and Tony had this armor ready for him because he thought Harley might need it one day. He thought he might need it to save himself or to save Peter.

_ Keep every legacy safe in emergency. _

He’s gotta save them. There’s no one else. It has to be him.

Before he can think about what he’s doing he steps forward and plummets off the edge of the building. Wind rushes past him and he’s too terrified to even scream. This is how he’s gonna go. He’s in a suit that can fly but if he doesn’t pull himself together that won’t be enough to save him from becoming a meat and metal pancake on the pavement.

“K.E.L.S.I.E., thrusters,” he chokes out and heat suddenly pours out of the bottoms of his boots and from the palms of his hands. He careens wildly for several seconds until he figures out how to hold his hands and position his feet. Then he’s rising. He figures he dropped a good twenty stories. It’s a miracle he didn’t throw up in his helmet or pass out.

Once he’s above even the tallest building he points himself towards Queens and leans forward until he’s flying perpendicular to the ground. It’s the worst thing he’s ever experienced in his life. He hurtles through the air feeling out of control and one wrong move away from tumbling out of the sky. He rockets past building after building and tries not to look down at the streets below.

"Don't throw up. Don't throw up. Don't throw up."

“Do you want to set a course?” K.E.L.S.I.E. asks.

“Take me to Iron Man,” Harley grunts. Then he continues his mantra and throws in a _‘_ _ Don’t fall _ _’_ or twelve for good measure.

A 3D map of New York pops up in the upper left side of his vision. Easy to see, but not in his way. There’s a yellow flight path trailing from the tower and ending in the heart of Queens and a little blinking blue dot that he thinks must be him.

"We’ll arrive in about a minute," K.E.L.S.I.E. says, drawing him briefly from his rapidly spiraling thoughts. One minute. 60 seconds. It's an eternity. He's in hell. It's been at least three minutes since Peter went down. So much can happen in three minutes.

They could already be dead.

"Can this thing go any faster?" He bites out through chattering teeth. K.E.L.S.I.E. doesn't respond as the boosters in his feet crank up the firepower and thrust him forward.

"Shit, shit, shit. Oh God, I'm gonna die."

"Tony made the suit to protect you," K.E.L.S.I.E. says. "Even if you crash, your injuries would be minimal."

"That's good," Harley says as the crane he remembers towering over the construction site in the live feed comes into view. He's trembling all over now. "Cuz I don't know how to land this thing."

He spots the rhino guy standing over Iron Man who is beat to all hell and crouched in front of Spider-Man's limp, unmoving body.

Peter.  _Oh God, Peter._

He painstakingly adjusts the angle of his flight and lets out a breath. Here goes nothing. Here goes everything.

Iron Man's head snaps up as he gets close and Rhino turns to follow his gaze but it's too late. Harley barrels into him at full speed and they both crash to the ground. Harley flips end over end like a doll before he finally smashes into a building and comes to an abrupt and painful stop. He doesn't move, too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Everything hurts. He's definitely going to have some impressive bruises and he's not Peter so he'll be wearing them for weeks.

But he's alive.

“Harley!” He hears Tony shout, voice metallic through Iron Man's helmet.

He rolls onto his knees with a groan. Rhino is on the ground, unconscious, the ground shattered under him leaving him in something of a crater. Maybe he's dead. Did he just kill someone? He's too freaked out by everything else to even add that to the mess of emotions rioting in his chest.

Peter.

Harley struggles to his feet and stumbles towards Tony and Peter. It's farther than he expects and there's a fucking  _ gouge _ in the rock and dirt that he's pretty sure wasn't there before he came crashing through. A whole squad of police officers jog past him towards Rhino. They give him a wide berth but don’t try to stop him or ask questions.

Tony is kneeling over Peter without his helmet on. His hands are practically bare, his gauntlets smashed to bits and pieces and he’s putting pressure Peter's side where the rebar is still sticking out of him. It’s useless. The rebar is sticking half a foot out of his back and blood is oozing down the length of it and down into the dirt.

"Hey, Underoos,” Tony is saying to Peter’s unconscious body.  _ He’s dying. He’s dying. _ “Stay with me, buddy. You shoulda seen your boyfriend come crashing in like a fucking wrecking ball just now. We're gonna have to get him some training."

A sob claws up Harley's throat as he falls to his knees beside them. He reaches for him but his hands are encased in metal and he doesn't want to hurt him worse.

Tony turns to face him. "You're going to have to fly him back to the tower," he says.

"What? I- Tony, I can't! You have to-,"

"I can't. Rockhead over there did a number on my suit or else I'd have flown us out of here ages ago. You got this. I'm so fucking proud of you. You can do this last thing and round out your superhero debut."

Harley feels bile claw up his throat at the thought of reenacting his flight here only this time with precious cargo.

"I can't," he chokes out. "I barely made it here. I can't. I can't-,"

"You can." Tony puts his hand on his shoulder with a clang of metal on metal as the bare remnants of Iron Man’s gauntlet slap against Harley’s suit. He turns him so he's looking at him rather than Peter's crumpled and bloody body. "You  _ can _ _,_ Harley. You can do anything you set your mind to. I've seen you do it."

"I can't! What if I drop him? What if I crash? I can't. I can't." Each breath wheezes in and out of his lungs painfully and his heart is beating so hard against his ribs he thinks they might crack.

"Harley, listen to me. You can. Step one, remember? Pretend you're not freaked out. It's the same for hero stuff. Pretend you've got it under control and then freak out about it when your ass is out of the fire."

"But I'm not a hero! I'm not like you!"

_ “Bullshit _ _._ You've been a hero since you were a twerpy little preteen and reminded a mechanic that his biggest asset is what's in here," he taps the side of his head, "not some fancy suit."

Harley stares at him, heart in his throat, and tries not to throw up.

"I know you can do this, kid. He needs help. He needs  _ you.” _

"Okay," Harley says through numb lips. "If I drop him though I'm coming back here to kill you and then myself."

Tony chuckles and slaps his back. "You aren't going to drop him. First things first, we gotta get this fucking thing out of him. You can’t carry him like this. It’s not gonna be pretty. Are you ready?"

Harley nods grimly.

“Alright. As soon as it’s out the clock is ticking. You grab him and go, okay?”

“Okay,” Harley says, voice weak beneath the waves of panic crashing over him.

“Alright. Here we go.”

Tony rips the rebar out of Peter in one fluid motion and Peter arcs back and screams, long and loud and agonized. Harley’s knees buckle and he nearly faints dead away. That’s his Peter suffering like that.

“Let’s go, Harley. You can do this,” Tony say, his face pale.

Harley sucks in a deep breath and shuffles forward, crouching over Peter. He's out of it. No longer fully unconscious but definitely not all there. He turns his head to look up at Harley but with the mask on Harley can't see his expression.

"Good thing we practiced this so much," Harley says and then carefully slings Peter up onto his shoulder in a fireman carry. Peter groans at the sudden movement and goes limp against him. Boneless. Unconscious.

"I'll meet you there," Tony says. "It might take me a little bit but just stay with him and I'll find you."

"Okay," Harley says, feeling sick.

"You'll get him home safe. I know you will. I'm so goddamn proud of you, Harley."

Harley nods, his throat too tight to speak. Then before he can think himself out of it, he activates the repulsors in his boots with a thought and shakily ascends into the air. He starts listing to the side towards a building so he throws out his free hand and fires a small burst of power to straighten out his trajectory.

"You're killing it, kid!" Tony shouts from the ground. "Get our boy home."

Harley releases the breath he'd been holding and focuses on Peter as they clear the tops of the buildings around them and start towards the tower.

Peter's okay. He's gonna be fine. He did it. He got to him in time and he got him out. Now he's just gotta get him home.

The flight home seems far shorter than the flight out had been. Before he has time to prepare, he finds himself rapidly approaching the landing pad. It's so small and any kind of crash landing would go very badly for Peter. To make matters worse, there's a smattering of people standing on it, ready and waiting with a wheeled bed to take Peter down to the med bay, leaving Harley with even less room for error.

He tries to taper off the speed without dropping out of the sky prematurely but he's coming in way too fast. He adjusts course and circles the tower to try again.

"You can do this. You can do this."  _ You have no choice. _

This time he slows down even more and once he's within a few feet of the landing pad he cuts the power to the repulsors. He falls the short distance to the landing pad, his stomach swooping horribly, and manages to land on his feet in a stumbling run. There's solid ground beneath his feet and finally he can almost breathe.

No one comes forward to help him until he flips back the faceplate.

"Harley?" Dr. Cho breaks free from the stunned group of nurses and rushes to help him lower Peter from his shoulders. The nurses rush forward with the bed and they all work together to get Peter on it and start taking his vitals as they wheel him inside.

He doesn't respond, too busy choking down air and trying to stay on his feet.

"You should sit down," Dr. Cho says. "Are you hurt?"

Harley shakes his head as his whole body begins to tremble uncontrollably. "I have to stay with him. Tony said stay with him."

"Okay," she says. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nods even though he's never been less sure of anything in his life.

"Keep up with us," Dr. Cho tells him. She doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t call him out either.

He follows as she jogs after the nurses and Peter, his every footfall clanging obnoxiously. He desperately wants out of the suit but there's no time and besides, he's not sure his legs will hold him up without it. Happy joins them at some point and Harley thinks he says something to him but he can’t hear it, can’t focus on it. He can only focus on making sure one foot goes in front of the other and that he doesn’t fall behind.

Somehow he makes it to the operating room without falling on his face. Dr. Cho and her nurses surround Peter and begin cutting away his suit. For a moment, Harley feels the insane urge to go to the lab and begin constructing a new one but his feet root him to the spot. He's not letting Peter out of his sight for a long, long time.

"Get me out of this thing," he tells K.E.L.S.I.E. The armor instantly folds open and he stumbles out of it. He nearly faceplants, just like he feared, but with Happy’s help, he manages to fall into a chair instead of to the floor.

He shoves the pile of armor into the corner and it collapses with a clatter that has all of the medical personnel looking his way. Dr. Cho does a double-take and makes an annoyed click with her tongue before sending one of the nurses over to him.

"Why do all superheroes lie to me about their injuries?" she snaps.

Harley doesn't realize she's talking about him until the nurse takes his arm and he gasps as a sharp and sudden pain flares up. He blinks down at his left arm and then blinks some more.

His forearm is swollen and already a deep mottled purple and there's a weird bump where there should only be smooth muscle.

"Is my arm broken?" he asks, his voice faint to his own ears.

"Looks like it," the nurse says, his tone abrupt. "We'll need to get some x-rays before we set it. I'm guessing you'll need a cast. Looks like it might be a full break. Luckily, it didn't break the skin."

“Jesus, kid,” Happy says, staring down at his arm in revulsion. “How could you not notice that?”

Harley feels sick and forces himself to look away from his ruined arm before his stomach makes good on the threat it's been holding over him all night and he blows chunks all over the nurse.

"I can't. I have to stay with Peter. Tony said stay with Peter." 

The nurse turns away but Harley catches his eye roll anyway. He wants to be pissed about it but he's having trouble catching his breath. Now that he's aware of it, all he can focus on is the deep pulsing pain in his arm. His stomach roils and he tips his head back against the wall and focuses on taking deep breaths.

“That’s it kid. Keep breathing,” Happy coaches him, catching the nurse's attention. The nurse squints at him and then takes his good wrist and presses his fingers against his pulse point at which point it becomes immediately clear how fast Harley's heart is racing.

"I think you might be going into shock."

"It's a panic attack," Harley counters. "I'm pretty sure."

"What makes you think that?"

"I have acrophobia. Fear of heights. And I was just flying around thousands of feet in the air,” he gulps down another breath, “in a tin can." His voice is too thin, too high. He clears his throat and says, "I think I'm on the tail end of it now."

Adrenaline is slowly fading from his body, leaving his overtaxed muscles twitchy and lax.

"Huh. Well, catch your breath. I'm going to get the x-ray room ready. It'll take two minutes to get the images and then you can come back in here."

"Alright." He’s too tired to argue and his arm really hurts.

“Asshole,” Happy grumbles as the nurse leaves the room.

The x-rays only take a couple minutes as promised and then Harley is back in Peter's room while his nurse cleans up his arm and starts preparing a cast. Harley asks for the neon purple one, surprised they have any fun colors to pick from, but he supposes it  is the Avengers.

Soon enough, his arm his bound up in eye-searing purple and he’s got some pain killers in his system. The nurse does a quick check for other serious hidden injuries and then rejoins the group surrounding Peter. Harley can’t focus on what they’re doing to him right now. He definitely caught a glimpse of something sharp and there’s way more red over there than he’d prefer and it’s not the Spider suit.

Rather than deal with it, he closes his eyes and zones out. He tries to clear his mind and not think about anything in particular but his traitorous brain keeps flashing between the image of Peter getting speared with the rebar and the split second before he crashed into Rhino over and over.

A hand drops onto his shoulder, jarring him from his circular thoughts. He opens his eyes and Tony’s there.

“Harley? You okay, kid?”

Tears immediately well up in his eyes and spill over his cheeks as he surges forward, throwing his arms around Tony’s waist, nearly beaning Happy in the face with his cast in the process.

“Everything’s gonna be okay. All thanks to you,” Tony says as he rubs Harley’s back. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You saved him.”

A sob bursts out of Harley’s throat and then another and another and he’s helpless to stop them. He did it but he was out of his mind with terror for every second of it and he  hated it and he never wants to even look at that armor ever again.

He cries his heart out into Tony’s chest until his throat is raw and his face his so swollen that it hurts to blink. Still, Tony holds him and strokes his back and tells him how proud he is. He doesn’t try to rush him into pulling himself together. Not even when Pepper gets there or half an hour later when May arrives.

Pepper sits beside him and wraps her arms around his waist, holding him while May takes Happy’s seat and intertwines their fingers, holding his good hand between both of hers. He sobs until he can’t and then he just sits there and trusts them to hold him together because he can’t right now. He just can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy... Serotonin... Wednesday?  
> Sorry :(
> 
> One chapter left! It's a happy one I promise! You guys are amazing! Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! See you next week!
> 
> Edit: I made the series for this so if you want to subscribe to the series you can be notified when the sequel is published :)


	19. Don't freak out

~ **Peter** ~

When Peter wakes up there’s a familiar weight curled up against his side and draped across his chest. Without opening his eyes, he raises a hand and runs it through Harley’s hair. Harley sniffles and presses closer, his hand curling into a fist in the front of Peter’s shirt. Peter scratches lightly at his scalp and Harley slowly relaxes his grip and begins snoring softly.

Peter leans forward to kiss the top of his head, but the movement causes a sharp terrible pain in his abdomen that pulls an involuntary gasp from between his lips and all at once he remembers.

Rhino. The construction site. The flashback. The rebar sticking out of his stomach. The pain. The _excruciating_ pain. And… Harley? He remembers hearing Harley’s voice when he thought for sure he was going to bleed out in the dirt, but that can’t be right. Harley was safe and sound at the tower probably oblivious to what was happening while Peter almost died like an idiot.

Talk about bad timing. He hasn’t had a flashback that vivid in over a year. He’s lucky Mr. Stark was there otherwise he’d be dead. The thought sends a shiver through him and he holds Harley a little closer.

“You gave us quite the scare, kiddo,” Mr. Stark says softly from nearby.

Peter cracks open an eye. After a few moments, his vision adjusts to the dim light and he sees Mr. Stark in a chair at his bedside leaning towards him with his elbows on his knees. Beyond him, he sees May and Pepper leaning together apparently asleep.

“Sorry,” he croaks. “Did we get ‘im?”

“No,” Mr. Stark says and Peter’s stomach drops. _Dammit_ _._ “Harley did.”

Peter opens his other eye and turns his head to stare fully at Mr. Stark. “What?” he asks, forgetting to be quiet.

Mr. Stark grins and Harley stirs.

“Peter?” he mumbles.

“Hey, I’m okay,” Peter soothes him, running his hand through his hair.

Harley lifts his head and Peter’s heart clenches in his chest. His eyes are so red and swollen Peter’s surprised he can open them at all and there’s a deep purple bruise on his right cheekbone that Peter _knows_ wasn’t there yesterday.

“Harley,” he says softly. He’s dying to lean forward and kiss away the pain and fear, but he remembers how bad it hurt the first time and stays where he is, settling for smoothing his hair away from his face. “What happened?”

“Don’t ever make me do that again,” Harley croaks, tears welling up in his eyes.

“What…” Peter glances at Mr. Stark who’s watching Harley with pride in his eyes. “What exactly did you do? Where’d that bruise come from?”

Harley drops his face against Peter’s chest and tightens his hold on him, shaking his head. Peter threads his hand through his hair and holds him close as he turns to Mr. Stark with a frown.

“What happened? What are you guys talking about?” Peter asks. Harley wasn’t _there_ _,_ was he? God, how would he have even gotten there?

“You wanna tell him?” Mr. Stark asks. Harley shakes his head emphatically and Mr. Stark chuckles. “Well, long story short, Iron Lad flew in and saved our bacon.”

“Iron _who? ”_

Harley lifts his head to skewer Mr. Stark with a watery glare. “That is the dumbest fucking name ever. Don’t ever call me that again.”

Peter’s breath catches as Mr. Stark laughs. “What? Harley did you-,” he puts a hand on Harley’s uninjured cheek and turns his face until he’s looking him in the eyes. “Did you _fly ?”_

He can’t even picture it, but Harley shudders and looks away and Peter knows that’s what happened.

“Holy shit. How?”

Harley glares at Mr. Stark. “Ask him.”

Mr. Stark smirks. “I may have built a suit for Harley just in case something like this ever happened.”

“What?!” Peter can’t figure out who he should be looking at. “Like, an Iron Man suit?”

“Iron La-,”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Harley snaps. “I swear to God if I ever have to fly that thing ever again I will puke in every shoe you own.”

“That’s a lot of shoes.”

“Don’t think I couldn’t. I can do anything I set my mind to,” Harley says in a mocking tone but Mr. Stark just grins wider.

“Damn straight you can. Have I told how fucking proud of you I am?”

“Not in the past five minutes,” Harley grumbles.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Peter says. “Can we rewind to the part where Harley _flew ?”_

“You were dying,” Harley says, voice cracking. “That guy was wailing on Tony and I- You both could have died and I- I was the only one who could do anything.”

He’s crying again and Peter gently wipes at his tears with his knuckles.

“Holy shit. You _flew ?”_

Harley nods with a sniffle. “All the way from the tower and it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“He flew straight into Rhino and knocked him out cold,” Tony says, beaming with pride. “Broke his arm and got a little banged up, but he did it.”

“You broke your arm?” Peter echoes, concern coloring his tone as he searches the blankets.

Harley lifts his left arm and reveals a neon purple cast that starts in the middle of his hand and extends to just below his elbow.

“I told Happy he has to wait to sign it because you get first dibs since it’s your fault I had to have one in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says. _My fault, my fault, my fault._ “God, I’m so sorry. I should’ve-,” He shakes his head. He should’ve dodged. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve been able to stay focused and not get distracted by something that happened over two years ago.

“I wasn’t- Peter, I’m not trying to guilt-trip you,” Harley says.

“What happened out there, kiddo?” Mr. Stark asks, voice softening. “You froze up. It’s like you were somewhere else.”

“I…” Peter hesitates. He never told Mr. Stark about getting trapped under the collapsed warehouse when he fought Vulture. He managed the flashbacks and nightmares and after a while, he was able to put it behind him and could sleep without ending up _there_ and after a little while longer he could walk into an industrial building without feeling immediate nausea and panic. It took a long time and it was hard—like, really _really_ hard—but he did it. He got through it and he never had to tell anyone except Ned what happened. He thought he’d gotten through it without having to confess to Mr. Stark.

“Peter,” Mr. Stark says, running a hand through Peter’s hair, and fluffing it soothingly. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t think any less of you.”

Peter sets his jaw and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He glances at Harley and finds him watching, brow furrowed with concern, but patient and nonjudgmental as always. Without much thought, he touches his bracelets where they’re still secure around his wrist. They vibrate in response and he takes a breath.

“So I uh… A building fell on me once. Like, totally collapsed.”

“What?!” Mr. Stark says, too loud. “When was this? I should have been notified. F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up the footage.”

“There isn’t-,” Peter swallows thickly. This is exactly why he never wanted to tell him. “Mr. Stark, there’s no footage.”

“What? Did you hack the suit? There should be _something .”_

Peter licks his lips. “I wasn’t wearing the suit.”

“Wha…” Mr. Stark stares at him, confusion mingling with the alarm written clearly across his face. “Why weren’t you wearing the suit? When did this even happen? Why didn’t you-,” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “That’s not important. I just… What happened?”

Peter glances at Harley and finds him watching with a slight frown but none of Mr. Stark’s theatrics. He releases a pent up breath and faces Mr. Stark again.

“You remember the Vulture?”

Mr. Stark screws up his face. “The bird guy with the metal wings? He’s the one who went after the plane that day we tried moving upstate, isn’t he? But you-,” Mr. Stark snaps his mouth shut, his teeth coming together with an audible clack. He turns wide eyes onto Peter’s face and Peter looks away.

“I took the suit,” Mr. Stark says. “I took it and you went after him anyway and a building… a _building_ fell on you and you didn’t have the suit.”

Peter shudders involuntarily and Mr. Stark leans back in his chair, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Oh my God.”

“It’s not your fault,” Peter says quietly.

“I think it’s pretty clear that it is directly my fault,” Mr. Stark says, lowering his hand. He looks at Harley. “You’ve been telling me this whole time that something like this could happen because of me but I guess the joke’s on both of us because it already has and I didn’t… _Fuck._ I didn’t even know because I _took the suit .”_

“Mr. Stark, I’m okay. I got out.”

“How?” Mr. Stark breathes. “A building… A whole building.” He rubs a hand down his face and shakes his head.

“I uh, lifted it.” He can feel both Harley and Mr. Stark staring at him now, but he stares down at the blanket rather than look at either one of them. “I didn’t think I could. I thought I-,” _I thought I was going to die all alone under the rubble and no one would even know where to look to find me_ _._ “I was stuck, but I uh, I did it. I got out.”

“Shit kiddo, I’m so sorry. I should have been there. You shouldn’t have had to do that on your own.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine now.”

“Not completely fine apparently,” Mr. Stark says. “What happened with Rhino? Was it a flashback?”

Peter winces. “Yeah. He pulled the rebar off that structure and it looked like it was going to fall and I just…”

“You were under the rubble,” Mr. Stark says with a confidence that speaks of experience.

Peter blinks at him. “Yeah. It was… I haven’t had one that intense in a really long time so it caught me off guard and I… I didn’t even see that spear coming.”

“Nightmares?” Mr. Stark asks.

Peter shrugs. “Not anymore. I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Really.”

Mr. Stark sniffs and purses his lips. “Have I told you that I still have panic attacks about flying through that wormhole sometimes? Not like I used to,” he says with a nod towards Harley that Peter doesn’t understand but Harley seems to, “but every now and again something sends me right back into space with the suit shutting down around me and the air vanishes from my lungs and…” he trails off with a shake of his head.

“I didn’t know that,” Harley says quietly.

“Me neither,” Peter says.

Mr. Stark sucks in a breath. “I have nightmares too. Not every night anymore, thank God, but sometimes… Usually those are about the cave in Afghanistan.”

“You were tortured, weren’t you?” Harley asks with a calm steadiness that Peter can only dream of someday achieving.

Mr. Stark shudders and nods. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Yeah. I’m only… I’m telling you boys this because I want you to know that I’ve been there. I’m _still_ there. And it’s not something you should think you have to carry on your own. It’s _always_ better to talk to someone about it. Don’t learn this shit the hard way like I did. If you don’t… It doesn’t have to be me but talk to someone. Whether that’s each other or May or God knows Pepper’s got years of experience dealing with my bullshit. Rhodey too.”

He takes a steadying breath and scrubs a hand down his goatee. “Just… Promise me you won’t lock this stuff up inside of you and let it fester.” The lines on his face suddenly appear deeper, making him look older and tired but also soft and earnest.

“We promise,” Peter says, glancing at Harley to see his nod of agreement. “I told Ned about it before. So I wasn’t… He knew.”

“Good,” Mr. Stark says. He takes a breath and lets it back out. “So what else? We’ve got nightmares and flashbacks. What else?”

Peter doesn’t say anything and Mr. Stark sighs.

“There’s no shame in battle scars, kiddo. We’ve all got ‘em. For me and Cap it’s water. Clint and Bucky stay away from anything that affects the mind. For Nat… Well we just trust her when she says she’s sitting something out. She’s not a big sharer. But my point is, it’s important that we as a team know each other’s weak spots so we can back each other up when it’s needed. We all have something and there’s always someone else that can take the reigns so you don’t have to re-traumatize yourself. So lay it on me, kiddo. Whatever it is.”

“Claustrophobia,” Peter admits. “It’s not too bad usually. I can do like air vents and stuff, but when I can feel my own breath on my face I kind of panic a little bit.”

Mr. Stark nods. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

Peter shakes his head.

“I’m glad I know now,” Mr. Stark tells him, looking him in the eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Peter shrugs and looks away, a deflection on the tip of his tongue when Harley suddenly sits up straight for the first time.

“The chicken coop!” he exclaims and Peter wrinkles his nose. “You weren’t scared of the chickens. It was the coop.”

“It was a little bit the chickens,” Peter tells him. “Talons are freaky.”

“You should have told me,” Harley says, but there’s no accusation in his voice.

“Yeah, maybe,” Peter agrees.

“No maybe,” Harley argues. “I told you about _swinging_ freaking me out. You could’ve told me you’re claustrophobic.”

“Okay yeah,” Peter agrees, smiling at Harley despite himself. “Sorry.”

“Wait. _Swinging_ _?”_ Mr. Stark asks. “Like on a swing set?”

“It’s the swoopy feeling,” they say in unison.

_“ What? ”_

Harley tilts his head to the side and considers him. “You know I’m like, stupid scared of heights right?”

“You are?” Mr. Stark says, blinking rapidly.

“Huh. I thought you knew,” Harley says. “I don’t exactly keep it a secret.”

“Why did you think I was so blown away that Harley flew?” Peter asks, curious.

“Honestly? I thought you were just being a dick.”

Harley and Peter laugh, but Peter cuts his short when his abdomen flares with pain.

“You know how proud I was before? Triple that and that’s how proud I am now,” Mr. Stark says. He leans across Peter to cup the back of Harley’s neck and gives him a little shake. “I am so fucking proud.”

Harley ducks his head. “I still never want to do that again.”

“We’ll figure something out. It’s beyond time I figure out teleportation anyway.”

Harley laughs.

“I get to see you in the suit, right?” Peter asks, grinning. “You don’t have to fly or anything, but I think I deserve to see it.”

“Well, it’s over there, but I’m not putting that thing back on,” Harley says, gesturing towards the corner over by Pepper. “Not for a while at least.”

Peter cranes his neck trying to see it, but only catches a glimpse of a pile of metal heaped on the floor. He settles back against the bed with a huff.

“Well when you’re feeling up to it, let me know and I’ll bring my camera.”

“Aaaand you’ve drastically decreased your chances of ever seeing me in it.”

“Aww c’mon,” Peter whines. He flutters his eyelashes. “Do it for me, sweat lips?”

Harley laughs and Mr. Starks mutters, _“_ _Sweat_ lips?” under his breath.

Then Harley’s eyes inexplicably fill with tears. “God, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so scared.”

“Hey, c’mere,” Peter says holding out his arm. Harley doesn’t need any more encouragement before he lays back down, pressing his face against Peter’s neck. Peter ignores the wetness and holds him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Harley says.

“Feels like it though.”

“Well it’s not, so jot that down.”

Peter huffs a tiny laugh. “Alright. Consider it jotted.”

“Good. Don’t forget.”

“I’ll try.”

The door opens and Happy walks in carrying a cardboard drink carrier full of coffee cups and a fifth one in his other hand. His eyes land on Peter.

“Oh shit. You’re awake. About damn time, kid!”

May suddenly sits upright at his exclamation and Pepper almost tips out of her chair at the sudden lack of support, but manages to catch herself at the last moment.

“What’s going-?”

“Peter!” May exclaims, jumping up from her chair. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Mr. Stark smoothly vacates his seat so that May can collapse into it and grab Peter’s hand. Happy wordlessly hands Tony a coffee before taking May’s seat next to Pepper and handing her a cup as well.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says.

“Not your fault,” Mr. Stark and Harley say in chorus.

A funny feeling settles around Peter’s heart at the united front of support that they’re offering him. He smiles.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

“Uh, good,” Peter says. She raises her eyebrows. “It’s the truth! I mean, I think I’m just gonna lay here for a while. I tried sitting up earlier and that didn’t feel great so… But I’m good. I feel good.”

Harley lifts his head and aims a flat look at him. “Why would you try to sit up, dufus?”

A blush heats Peter’s cheeks as he smiles shyly and admits, “I was trying to kiss you.”

Harley stares at him as a flurry of emotions cross his face before his expression finally settles into that soft look and he levers himself up to plant a kiss on Peter’s smiling lips.

“You’re an idiot,” he tells him.

“Yeah maybe,” Peter agrees.

“Have they been this disgusting all summer?” Happy grumbles.

“Oh honey, this is nothing,” May tells him while Pepper laughs.

“Just wait until you see them coo over their little girl,” Pepper says.

Happy chokes on his coffee.

“Their cat,” May explains.

“I’m still pissed that an animal was living in my house for weeks and everyone knew but no one told me,” Tony says. “I had to find out from _Rhodey_ and he doesn’t even live here!”

“Pay more attention, old man,” Harley says. “We carried her right past you so many times.”

“You literally walked in on me playing with her in the living room and all you did was tell me to get off the ceiling,” Peter tells him.

Everyone laughs except Mr. Stark who raises his voice to be heard over them. “How am I supposed to notice a tiny little rodent when my kid is literally climbing the walls?!”

They only laugh harder. Harley hugs Peter tight and Peter brushes his fingers over his bracelets. They buzz and he feels at peace in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

~*~

“Okay, I have a serious question,” May says some hours later when they have the room to themselves. Pepper had to leave to attend to some business, Happy is getting lunch, and Mr. Stark and Harley are upstairs showering for the first time since the fight went down.

“Uh, okay,” Peter says, eyes wide as he thinks through the multitude of ways he could be in trouble right now.

May scoots her chair closer to the bed and takes Peter’s hand in hers and leans towards him with a serious look on her face. “I’ve seen the way you and Harley have been looking at each other lately and I think I deserve to know… Do you larb him?”

Peter blanches. Of all the things he thought this might be about, his relationship with Harley didn’t even make the list. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. He’s not ready to say the words but he can’t lie to May either.

“Don’t say larb,” he says weakly.

May’s face lights up and she sits up straight. “Oh my God, you do!”

“Stop, stop! Don’t make it weird,” Peter pleads. “And for the record, I didn’t say _larb .”_

“No, it was a different four-letter ‘L’ word that you were thinking,” May says with a knowing smile.

“May,” Peter whines.

“Okay, okay!” She presses her hands between her knees and bites her lip. It lasts all of three seconds before she bounces to her feet and cups Peter’s cheeks between her palms. “Oh my baby boy is all grown up! I can’t believe you’re in love.”

“May!” Peter says, grabbing her wrists and shooting a panicked look at the door. “Please, _please_ be cool about this. I haven’t- We haven’t- I’m gonna tell him, okay? I just need a little more time.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got all the time in the world,” May tells him, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs before pulling her hands away. “I’m not trying to rush you, I’m just excited. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

Peter’s heart skips a beat and he thinks of those soft looks that started sometime after their trip to Rose Hill. Or maybe it was during.

“Yeah?”

May grins. “Oh yeah. Honey, that boy larbs you so hard.”

“May!” Peter says again, but May just laughs while he blushes furiously.

He manages to steer the conversation around to the rapidly approaching first day of college coming up but he remembers what she said and when Harley comes back after his shower with two juice boxes and a kiss for his forehead his heart flutters like crazy in his chest. May winks at him as she heads out, needing a solid day of sleep before her shift tonight, and it doesn’t help at all.

_Does he love me back?_

He thinks it’s supposed to take longer. They’ve only been dating for like a month and a half. They’re not supposed to be in love yet, right? If he tells him now will something change later and make the love go away? Will he scare him off?

He slurps his juice and tries not to over-think it but he worries that it’s too late. He wishes MJ was here to smack some sense into him. He touches the black bracelet and it vibrates against his wrist a couple seconds later but it just makes him love Harley more.

“Fuck.”

Peter blinks at Harley, but he’s not paying attention. He’s staring wide-eyed down at his phone.

“What?” Peter asks. He cranes his neck, trying to see the screen without twisting his torso. It’s a string of texts from Abbie, but Peter can’t read what they say at this angle. “Is Abbie okay? Your mom?”

“Yeah, no they’re fine,” Harley says, distracted. “I guess…” He laughs breathlessly and maybe it’s just Peter, but he looks a little sick. “I guess someone recorded my ‘superhero debut’ as Tony called it. It’s… It’s everywhere.”

Peter goes cold all over.

“Did they see your face?” he asks.

Harley shakes his head, but before the relief can settle in he says, “No, but apparently Tony shouts my name clear as day after I smash into Rhino. Not hard to put two and two together there.”

“It’ll… It’ll be okay,” Peter says. “We’ll figure something out. Pepper can… Pepper can do something.” Never mind that he has no idea what she could do at this point but he feels like he has to say something to wipe that devastated look off Harley’s face.

“Hey,” Peter says, running his fingers down Harley’s forearm until their fingers intertwine. He waits until Harley looks up at him, looking a little lost. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

“I don’t wanna be a superhero,” Harley whispers. “I’m not… I’m not like you and Tony. I don’t want that.”

“That’s okay. Nobody expects you to. Nobody that matters,” he adds when it looks like Harley might argue.

Harley shakes his head and looks back down at his phone. “They’re already calling me the next Iron Man.”

“So what? They’re just making stuff up so people will read their articles. They don’t know anything.”

Harley doesn’t say anything and continues to frown.

“What does this really change?” Peter asks. “You’re already famous for being close to Mr. Stark so what’s it matter if you flew in a suit once to save Spider-Man? It’ll be a big deal for five minutes and then people will get over it.”

“What if they figure out who you are?” Harley asks quietly and Peter’s heart skips a beat.

“Did… Why would they figure that out?”

Harley shrugs. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d climb in one of those suits for. Abbie or Mama, sure, but obviously they’re not Spider-Man. You though… What if people figure it out? What if… it’s because of me?”

Peter’s heart thunders in his chest as he recalls May’s conviction that Harley loves him. For some reason, _‘_ _I can’t think of anyone else I’d climb in one of those suits for,_ _’_ sounds a whole lot like, _‘_ _Honey that boy larbs you so hard,_ _’_ and Peter doesn’t know what to do with that information. He can’t dwell on it. Not right now.

“You saved my life, Harley,” Peter reminds him. “I… If the cost is that everyone finds out I’m Spider-Man then we’ll deal with that, but… but at least I’m _alive .”_

Harley turns and meets his eyes and Peter’s breath catches in his throat. His eyes are intense but tender and it’s like he’s seeing Peter all the way down to his core and into his darkest corners. He puts a hand against Peter’s cheek and Peter’s eyes flutter closed as he kisses him, soft and slow and lingering.

“That was nice,” Peter’s mouth says when they pull apart. He wants to kick himself for sounding like such an idiot, but Harley’s lips curl into a smile and then he’s kissing him again.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if-,” Harley cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. “I don’t think… I don’t think you’ll ever understand how fucking terrified I was that I was gonna lose you.”

“I hope I never do,” Peter admits. “Not gonna lie, I’m kinda relieved you don’t want to go full-time superhero. I don’t know how you put up with me and my bullshit.”

Harley kisses his nose, making Peter crinkle it up. “It ain’t so bad usually.”

“Really? You don’t think you’ll get tired of it someday?”

Harley tilts his head to the side as his eyes rove over Peter’s face. The corner of his mouth ticks up and his eyes go soft with That Look.

“Nah,” he says and shuffles down so he’s laying beside Peter. He puts his arm around Peter’s shoulders and adjusts him so that he’s laying with his head on his chest. Peter feels the press of a kiss upon his hair and tries to will his heart to beat a little less hard and a little less fast, but it’s no use especially after what he says next.

“I think I’m in it for the long haul, Spider Baby.”

It sounds suspiciously like an I love you.

~ **Harley** ~

“Hey Harley, can you take a look at this for me?” Peter calls from across the lab.

Harley sighs and sets aside his soldering iron. This better be related to whatever put the ants in Peter’s pants this morning. He’s been acting weird all day. Ever since he got discharged from the Med Bay he hasn’t been able to sit still (worse than usual) and he fluctuates wildly between chattering nonstop and spacing out for minutes at a time. He hasn’t been avoiding Harley per se, but every now and again he’ll get a weird look on his face mid-conversation and bolt from the room with some half-brained excuse.

It was cute at first, but he’s ready for the other shoe to drop. He’s 90% sure Peter’s planning something with 9% reserved just in case he’s had some kind of realization that’s making being around Harley awkward and the remaining 1% is, as always, allocated to brain damage. He can never bring himself to rule it out knowing the kind of shit Peter gets himself into.

Harley holds back a groan as he levers himself to his feet. His whole body is sore and aching despite the pain killers they’ve got him on. He took a hot bath this morning and was horrified at the number of bruises littering his skin. He hasn’t told anyone because he can’t stomach Tony’s unwavering pride or Peter’s guilt. He’ll ignore it until it all heals and then it won’t be a problem anymore and he won’t have to deal with all the drama of people fawning over him. His face and arm are bad enough.

“What?” Harley asks as he approaches.

Peter jumps like he’d already forgotten he called him over and looks up at Harley with wide eyes. He raises his eyebrows and, bizarrely, Peter blushes. God, he can’t wait to figure out what’s going on in that boy’s head.

“I umm, will you look in the…” he gestures at a microscope and seems to be floundering.

“You want me to look in the microscope?” Harley asks.

“Microscope! That’s it. Yeah, if you could just…” Peter gestures vaguely and Harley is at the end of his patience.

“What am I looking for?” he asks, stepping closer to the microscope.

“Oh just… Tell me what you see.” Peter won’t look at him. He has his hands in his pockets and is rocking back and forth on his heels and is craning his neck to look anywhere except at Harley.

Harley narrows his eyes. “Is this a prank?” he asks.

“What?! No no no no no!” Peter exclaims, wayyy over the top.

Harley pins him with a flat look. “Seriously, Parker? What is it? Is there black ink on the eyepiece? Is there a picture of Rick Astley down there? What’s the gag?”

“There isn’t- It’s not a prank!” Peter insists. “Just… Harley, please just look.”

Harley presses his lips together and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me what your deal is first. You’ve been acting weird as hell all day.”

Peter gapes at him and then presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. “If you would just _look_ _.”_ He gestures at the microscope, but Harley’s already dug in his heels.

“No. Tell me first. After you tell me, I’ll look.”

“For fuck’s sake. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are you being so _weird? ”_

“Because I need you to look!”

“I’ll look after you explain.”

“Oh my God, you ruin everything! I cannot believe this.”

He touches his bracelets almost subconsciously and Harley has to fight back the warmth that threatens to overwhelm him. He knew Peter would love them, but damn if it doesn’t turn him into a big pile of mush every time he’s reminded of how much.

“Just spit it out,” Harley demands. “All at once before you over-think-,”

“I’m in love with you!”

Harley snaps his jaw shut and blinks several times. Peter’s cheeks turn pink and Harley can practically see the urge to run away zip across his face. He lunges forward and grabs his wrist before he can act on it and says the first words that pop into his head.

“I know.”

Peter stares at him. “Wow… Okay. Very Han Solo which is cool and all but uh, I was kinda hoping…”

“Peter,” Harley says, stepping closer as a smile takes over his face and his heart thunders in his chest. _HelovesmeHelovesmeHelovesme_ _._ “Don’t freak out, but you told me you loved me months ago.”

Peter blinks up at him in shock and then, _“What?!_ N-no, I didn’t! I would… I would definitely remember that.”

“It was in Rose Hill.” Harley smooths a curl off of his forehead, careful not to clobber him over the head with his cast. “Remember after we were star gazing? I took you upstairs to bed and uh, tucked you in and you said, ‘Goodnight. Love you,’ and then I said ‘I love you too’.”

Peter freezes and meets Harley’s eyes. “You did?” he breathes.

Harley’s eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile runs out of room to grow. “Yeah, I did. And I still do. Love you, I mean. More than I did back then even. Which is saying a lot.”

“Oh,” Peter says. “Why… Why didn’t you say it anymore after that?”

Harley steps closer and rests his forehead against Peter’s, his heart overflowing with happiness as Peter leans into him. “I wanted to see if you’d say it again. Took you long enough.”

“Oh,” Peter says. He moves his hands up the sides of Harley’s neck and into his hair. “I umm… Should I say it again? Now, I mean.”

Harley laughs, light and airy as he cups Peter’s cheek in his good hand. “Only if you let me kiss you after.”

“I love you,” Peter says without hesitation and Harley feels like laughing again, but instead he surges forward and pulls Peter against him as their lips meet and move together.

“I love you too,” he says against his lips. He only has a second to suck in a breath before Peter is kissing him again and shoving him back against the workbench. Harley’s bruised body objects to the rough treatment and something clatters to the floor, but it doesn’t matter. He tunes it all out and holds Peter closer.

Later, after an embarrassing interruption courtesy of Tony trying to find where he left his StarkPad, they sit together atop the workbench, hand in hand swinging their feet.

“So what’s under the microscope?” Harley asks. It’s still set up and waiting.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. You ruined it.”

“No, hold on. I want to see.” Harley hops off the workbench, but Peter pulls him back by their still interlocked hands and wraps his legs around his waist.

“No, you don’t get to look now because you were such a butt about it earlier,” Peter tells him, but Harley is distracted by the legs around his waist and the boy they’re attached to.

He puts his hands on the workbench on either side of Peter and leans in and kisses him, effectively shutting him up. Peter wraps his arms around Harley’s neck to match the legs around his waist and Harley smiles into the kiss. He curls his good arm around the small of Peter’s back and in one fluid motion scoops him off the workbench.

Peter yelps and tightens his hold on Harley as he’s carried a table over to where the microscope is sitting.

“Harley!”

“I wanna see,” Harley grunts, setting Peter down beside the microscope less gently than he’d have liked, but that’s one of many downsides to only having one functioning arm.

“You’re such a pain,” Peter grumbles but doesn’t stop him as he leans down and peers through the microscope. He takes another couple seconds to try and figure out what he’s looking at before he gives up. It’s not anything he recognizes and he’s not sure where Peter was going with the whole thing.

“Okay, what am I looking at?” he asks.

“It’s a _heart_ _,_ jackass.”

Harley blinks and then he can see it. It’s a little lopsided, but now that Harley knows what to look for he can see it’s a tiny puddle of red something in the shape of a heart. He can’t help it. He starts to laugh.

“Fuck you. I hate you so much,” Peter complains, attempting to shove him away.

Harley catches his elbow and says, “I love you too.”

Peter’s expression flickers, shifting dangerously close to a smile, but he manages to settle it back into a pout. “I was trying to be romantic.”

That sets Harley off laughing all over again.

“You’re the worst,” Peter moans, half-heartedly shoving at Harley as Harley attempts to glom back onto him while laughing so hard his knees buckle. “Quit laughing! You’re so mean to me. Ugh. Someone’s calling me.”

Peter digs his phone out of his pocket and frowns at the screen. “This is probably a super important scam so shut up so I can hear. Hello? _Get off, you jerk._ Hello? Are you calling to offer to consolidate my student loans? Or is this about life insurance?”

Harley attempts to muffle his giggles but doesn’t leave Peter’s immediate vicinity. That means he’s close enough to hear the young voice on the other end of the line say, “Uh, Spider-Man?”

Peter’s eyes swing up to meet Harley’s, wide and panicked. Harley’s laughter evaporates and his chest goes cold. This is it. It happened. Someone made the connection and now everyone will know and it’s all his fault.

“What? N-no?” Peter squeaks, completely unconvincing as he continues to stare at Harley in horror. “How did you get this number?”

“You… Spider-Man gave it to me. He said to call if things got weird and I didn’t. I should have but I thought I could-,”

Peter stands up so fast he and Harley nearly crack skulls. “Miles?!”

~ **END** ~

[](https://imgur.com/dKZKuIr)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Serotonin Wednesday! This is it. The final chapter. Was it fluffy enough? Lol I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Poor Peter. He's a romantic at heart but he's just...so incredibly bad at it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read, kudosed, and commented! You guys are amazingly supportive and you've made sharing this fic so rewarding and so much fun! I can't wait to get the sequel up! Writing is going a little slow at the mo but it's coming along. Make sure you subscribe to the series so you can be notified when chapter 1 is posted! Love you guys!
> 
> Edit: Oh yeah you can come harass me on Tumblr if you want! My personal blog is weasleychick32 and my writing blog is Sarah-Sandwich. I'm way more active on my personal blog bc that's the one I have on my phone but do what you want!


End file.
